The Walls Have Ears
by ejzah
Summary: Set after season two episode 'Personal'. Deeks is given a hard time for being to easy to track and find, but just how good is the rest of the team's tradecraft and how effective is it? Marty Deeks is about to find out that even the best tradecraft can't protect you all the time. AU obviously. Team fic but centered around Deeks.
1. Chapter 1

Marty Deeks pushed himself into an only slightly less uncomfortable position in the hard hospital provided chair. It was day four of his unwanted stay and he was just about ready to bludgeon himself with something, provided he was able to locate an object that was reasonably hard yet light enough for a bullet hole ridden man to lift, to ease the sheer boredom and inevitable pain. He'd turned off his TV earlier today, well technically it was yesterday but days didn't really matter much in a hospital since they all tended to blur together and people came along and poked you no matter what hour it was, thoroughly sick of Little House on the Prairie reruns.

"Hello, Mr. Deeks!" An overly cheery nurse greeted him, not bothering to knock on the door before she entered. "How are we doing today?" She didn't wait for a reply but Marty still felt the urge to tell her they weren't doing anything unless it involved fewer articles of clothing. He resisted though since she wasn't Kensi and he wasn't really in the mood for wordplay.

"I see you're up bright and early." She continued, ignoring Marty's annoyed expression.

"Yeah, I'm a real go-getter." He muttered which the nurse ignored as well. He thought her name was Kim but like the day, the nurses were starting to blur together. Maybe-Kim snapped on a pair of latex gloves and began the usual round of torture, slipping the cold metal of her stethoscope under his bandages while her other hand prodded one of his still healing wounds. He held back a gasp as she blithely pushed against the swollen flesh, cheerfully telling him about her sister's latest pregnancy.

Marty remembered now that her name was actually Melissa and that she'd regaled him with the stories of her sister's first three labors on previous visits. He could only hope that she didn't have any more siblings.

"Hey Deeks." He jerked up in surprise and instantly regretted it, letting out a low moan of pain. Nurse Melissa turned slightly to glance at the newcomer and then turned back to Deeks as though nothing had happened while Kensi rushed forward with a concerned expression.

"Deeks, I'm so sorry. Are you ok?" She spoke quickly, her words slightly breathless with worry.

"Don't sweat it Fern." He reassured her, hissing the next second when Melissa jabbed her index finger directly into one of his wounds.

"Ooh, looks like I found a tender spot." She observed happily while Kensi stood behind her with a murderous glare. Marty saw her hand twitch towards her gun and he shook his head, not wanting to explain to the LAPD why he was wearing Nurse Melissa's guts.

"So what brings you here on this fine morning?" Marty bit out. Kensi sent Melissa a final glare as the nurse replaced Marty's bandages and checked his IV. Once the woman finally left the room Kensi seemed to relax and took a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Can't a woman visit her partner?" She hedged and Deeks shrugged. Kensi poked his shoulder and he gave her a brief smile. "Besides," She continued slowly, piquing his interest slightly. "Who else is going to smuggle you donuts and coffee?" With the air of one revealing a marvelous magic trick, she pulled a carton from the bag she carried over one shoulder.

"You brought me food? Real food? Not squares of yellow goo masquerading as eggs and toast made of old tires?" Marty gazed up at Kensi as he rambled on with an expression of adoration shining in his eyes. "Bless you, with all that is holy, Kensi Blye." He reached for the bag and Kensi merely rolled her eyes at his antics before relinquishing the food.

"Quick, close the door before Nurse Candace sees you." Marty urged Kensi as he peered inside the bag and inhaled deeply. "You are a goddess." He whispered as he pulled out the paper cup of liquid heaven and a chocolate covered piece of greasy gold. His gaze was so focused on the bag's contents he missed the slight blush that colored Kensi's cheeks and glanced up a second after she had schooled her expression into something vaguely amused.

"If I knew you were going to be this grateful, I would have asked for something in advance." Marty merely smiled as he grabbed a plastic knife and cut the doughnut in half, offering a section to his partner. She humbly accepted the pastry and the gesture.

"So, when are they gonna spring you?" She asked eventually, sucking on a chocolate coated finger. Marty shrugged, or as much he had learned he could do without causing unwanted pain.

"Haven't seen a doctor in two days. The nurses just keep telling me how brave I am. And that I'm a very fast healer." This last part was said with some confusion. "Apparently that's some kind of bragging point." Kensi frowned which surprised him since he'd been aiming for another smile.

"What do you mean your doctor hasn't seen you in two days?" Marty opened his mouth but Kensi continued as though he wasn't there. "That's negligent. You could have internal injuries and no one would know. I'm going to the front desk and find out what's going on."

"Kensi, that's not-" He called to her retreating back. "Whatever, not like anyone else listens to me here." He muttered to himself, moodily grabbing the TV remote. He flicked it on, glaring mutinously at the oldies station, daring it to continue its Little House marathon. Unsurprisingly the black box above his head remained unmoved by his intimidation techniques and proudly announced that the 'Best of the Prairie' week would continue after a brief message. Marty sighed and tossed the remote onto the bed, apathetically settling in to see how Laura's latest farm-hand suitor treated her and idly picked at his donut.

"I talked with your surgeon and sh-Deeks what on earth are you watching?" Marty startled from the stupor he'd fallen into over the last half hour.

"Huh?" He responded intelligently, attempting to straighten up from his slouch but finding that his muscles were rather uncooperative. "Oh, Laura's gone to the big city to meet one of her suitors. I think he's a bit of a cad." Marty said this last part with an air of confidentiality.

"No, why, why are you watching this?" Kensi clarified, sounding worried for his sanity.

"It's the only channel that doesn't show constant infomercials or 'Welcome Back Kotter'." He shuddered dramatically.

"Okaaay." She said, sounding fairly confused by this explanation. Marty shifted again, managing to actually move this time but not without sending a piercing ache through his chest and stomach. "Oh, for the love of all…" Kensi muttered and the next thing Marty knew her arms were around his waist.

"Whoa, hey warn a guy before you grab him." Marty complained, his body protesting as Kensi jerked him upright.

"Oh, quit being such a baby." Deeks said something which was muffled due to his face being pressed against her chest.

"E'si." He tried, knowing his partner would undoubtedly blame him for his unintentional encroachment on her physical boundaries. At last she let go and Marty could breathe little easier and not worry about potential castration.

"There, now you look less like a person in an old-folks home." She said, clearly pleased with her work.

"Thanks." He said dryly. "Your bedside manner is wonderful…tell me, do you always molest your patients." Deeks knew he was walking on thin, extremely thin, ice but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to see his partner blush.

"What?" Kensi asked and Marty saw her face blank for a moment and then flush. He saw the moment realization hit and ducked instinctually as her arm darted out.

"Ahh." He huffed out as her fist connected with his upper chest.

"Oh Deeks, I'm sorry." Kensi said, instantly contrite. Kneeling down she pressed a hand to his shoulder and he felt her fingers fluttering over his skin. "I'm sorry, it's habit. Are you ok?" She asked worriedly.

"I'm fine." Marty said as the pain ebbed down to its normal throbbing. Kensi was still looking unsure until Deeks shoulders started shaking.

"Deeks?" A small huff of laughter escaped and Kensi's expression transformed from concern to irritation and he received another smack, this time to his head.

"Unbelievable, hitting the wounded guy, who happened to save your life might I add." Kensi scoffed.

"It's your fault you know, for being a lecherous idiot." Marty adopted a defensive expression.

"Hey, I'm not the one who stuck her boobs in my face." He argued which earned a glare from Kensi.

"That doesn't even make any sense. And you don't have boobs."

"Thank the good lord for that, I don't have the hips to pull them off." Kensi made an exasperated noise and rolled her eyes. "However, I will say that they are a very nice pair of–okay, okay. I'm stopping." Marty lifted his hands to ward off any further assaults to his person as he saw Kensi raise her fist threateningly.

"What did the doctor say?" He asked eventually. Kensi was currently sitting on the edge of his bed as she peeled the chocolate glaze off a doughnut, her gaze fixed to the TV where Laura, or maybe it was Mary, was having her heart slowly broken.

"Mmm, sh' se' sh'l' co' ba' la'er," Kensi swallowed her bite of doughnut and continued on as though uninterrupted. "Today."

"How much later?" Marty asked, unbothered by Kensi's lack of etiquette.

"She has a surgery planned for nine so probably around noonish. She said you might even get released tomorrow. You know, since you're such a good healer and all." Kensi nudged Deeks knee playfully and he smiled up at her.

"Awesome, I am this close to shooting myself just to end the boredom." He held his fingers approximately a millimeter apart.

"Big baby." She offered affectionately, brushing her hands off on her jean covered knees. "Well, I gotta head out. See you tomorrow, Partner." Deeks smiled sleepily as Kensi stood.

"See you, thanks for everything. Especially the hug." He grinned hugely a moment before a pillow hit him squarely in the face.

"I'll let Nurse Melissa you're waiting for her." He heard in a singsong voice, followed by the click clack of Kensi's boots.


	2. Really?

**A/N:** Hey everyone, so here's the second chapter. Hope you like it.

In regards to one of my two reviews (so far J), Deeks' lack of medical care was not really a plot point. I did not in any way intend to malign the medical profession, I was just trying to give the impression that Deeks was getting a little bored. It's been my experience in hospitals that once a patient is out of the woods, doctors are far less likely to pop in.

Thanks for the support!

 **Really?**

"Hey Deeks, you look better than last time I saw you." Sam observed cheerily as he entered the Detective's room, closely followed by his partner and Kensi.

"Yeah, well, ripping open your stitches while racing through a hospital to go save your partner will do that to you." Deeks replied dryly.

"I don't think there was anything humble about that brag." G. added, smirking at Deeks' semi-slouched position in his chair.

"Seriously? Stating the truth is bragging now?" Deeks protested while he turned to Kensi with a pathetic expression. "Kensi, tell them not to pick on the wounded man." As expected she was not moved by his display and simply rolled her eyes. Giving up on his bid for sympathy, he turned his attention from his partner to Callen and Sam.

"Not that I don't appreciate a good party when I'm convalescing, but what are you all doing here?" Although a good deal of the pain and fear of being shot had lessened, Deeks allowed a little of the frustration he was feeling bleed into his voice.

"Kensi mentioned that your doctor was finally letting you out so we thought we'd come." Sam offered, with a slight smirk that Marty knew meant the punchline would be soon to follow. "Thought maybe we could get her to reconsider sending a shaggy mutt like you to live with the general population." He thought it was a bit unfair that he was being teased so mercilessly after recently being shot and saving his partner rather spectacularly he might add. Instead he simply rolled his shoulders to the best of his ability and gave a wide, easy grin.

"What can I say, it's my laidback demeanor…the ladies find it sexy." Predictably, Kensi gagged using Sam's back as a support while she leaned over.

"Ugh, before I have to hear any more about your supposed conquests can we just get you out of here?" Her voice was filled with irritation but Deeks could see the slight quirk of her lips that resulted when she mentioned him going home.

"Yeah, well if you can track down my doctor then that would be awesome."

"What is with the staff in this hospital?" Kensi asked, sounding ready to throttle someone at the slightest provocation.

"Mm, she's a very busy woman, apparently people keep getting shot." Deeks shifted restlessly in his chair, hoping to look less helpless than he felt with all his teammates staring at him. "Besides the nurses insist I'm a remarkably fast healer." There was a firm knock on the partially open door followed by the upper portion of Deeks' surgeon.

"Hello Mr. Deeks, I see you have all your friends here. Again." Marty smiled winningly at the surgeon, who looked vaguely amused at his display. Kensi glared daggers at the woman, Callen watched her suspiciously and Sam puffed out his chest as though he was preparing for battle.

"Lovely to see you all. Again." She commented dryly while she slipped her stethoscope from around her neck. "Well, let me just check your incisions one last time and you should be all set to go home."

Two hours later Marty was feeling decidedly tired as Kensi helped him trudge up the walkway to his house. He was beginning to think he might have overdone it with the wheelchair after all. Of course he'd never tell Kensi that since she'd be all 'told you so' and 'hospital hallways are no place to do wheelies'. Although as he watched her turn the key in his front door, a task Kensi had taken on since his own hand had decided to be a little uncoordinated, he figured denial was futile.

"You gonna be ok, partner. You're looking a little…milky there."

"I'll have you know that the Deeks' are a very fair-skinned people. All northern-European, meat and potatoes-ahh." He let out an embarrassing whimper, cutting his monologue short, as he settled on his couch and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the little drummer boy to stop playing Phillip Sousa marches on his ribcage. A gentle hand settled on his shoulder, warmth seeping through the thin material of his t-shirt.

"I'm gonna go see if you have any soup and grab your medication." Deeks frowned.

"Soup?"

"What, sick people eat soup." Kensi explained defensively. Marty raised himself on his forearm, to get a better look at his partner.

"First of all, I'm not sick, I was shot and I'm not Nancy Drew. Also it's seventy degrees outside." His abdomen muscles trembled and contracted and he gave up on his resolve to be upright for this particular conversation. "Secondly, can you make that a horse tranquilizer?" He begged, flopping inelegantly against the couch cushions with a groan.

Something warm touched his chest and Marty jerked away, levering himself into a sitting position. He held his fists aloft, preparing to defend himself when the searing pain hit him and he let out a shuddering moan.

"Deeks, calm down, it's just me, Kensi. Are you ok?" Marty heard the hazy sound of his partner rambling at him and forced himself to focus on what she was saying. "You fell asleep while I was making your soup so I thought I'd let you sleep for a while but that was two hours ago an-"

"Kens." She broke off and Marty pried his still-blurry eyes open to see his partner standing there somewhat awkwardly and looking supremely guilty. "Kens, I'm fine." He assured her.

"Well, eat your soup before it gets cold." Marty wasn't entirely sure whatever Kensi had found that fulfilled the characteristics of soup, was something he really wanted to eat. The only liquid-based items he could remember having were orange juice and a half-eaten jar of salsa, but Kensi was standing there still looking so guilty and eager to please that he figured he'd risk potential food poisoning.

"Hey, Kens." He called softly after a moment of trying to push himself into a more soup-appropriate position and finding that his muscles had seized up. "Could you give me a hand here?" She darted over to him immediately, bending at the waist when she froze and pulled back to regard him with a suspicious expression.

"This isn't some kind of trick to feel me up again is it?"

"No!" Marty protested loudly. "And the last time I was hardly in a position to 'feel you up' since I was the squishee and you were the squisher." Kensi fixed him with a glare that would have made weaker and wiser men wet their pants. He gazed back innocently. Whatever Kensi found there must have convinced her that this time at least his motives were pure as she muttered.

"Those aren't even words, I don't know how you passed the bar."

"Creatively." He replied as Kensi stooped once again and slipped her arms around his waist, being careful to keep a good three inches of space between her chest and his face but in doing so ending up with her nose buried in his messy curls.

"You know you could help a little." She suggested grumpily.

"I didn't know I was allowed to touch." Marty said as he lifted his hands to cup her elbows.

"That wasn't an invitation." She warned as together they managed to get him both upright and reasonably pain free. "Now quit complaining and eat your soup." Marty warily took the spoon that Kensi offered and tentatively stirred the bowl of liquid. It looked like Campbell's and upon taking an even more timid sniff he decided that it didn't smell particularly noxious.

"Where'd you get chicken soup?" He asked, thinking that if his partner had bothered to go out and by a can of watery soup she might as well have gotten take out.

"It was in the back of one of your cabinets." Kensi answered casually as she eagerly watched him eat. Holding back a grimace, Deeks swallowed his current spoonful and aimed a smile up at her.

"Well, thanks for going to all the trouble. You didn't have to stay." Now that Marty was slightly more awake he was finding it a little odd that his kill-you-with-a-fork-without-spilling-a-drop-of-blood-on-my-Jimmy-Choos partner was nervously hanging around his house heating up expired soup.

"It's only soup." Kensi said, looking a little embarrassed. "I wanted to make sure you were ok to be by yourself and wouldn't freak out when you woke up all alone in the dark."

"You wound my masculinity." Deeks said airily. He was now stirring his soup in favor of eating it, watching the oddly yellow liquid swish around the spoon and occasionally be displaced by the odd carrot or bit of chicken with morbid fascination. Kensi snorted.

"Well, I do have to go now, so is there anything you need? Can you get to the bathroom alright?" Marty stared back stonily at this last question, thinking that if there was ever a time when he needed help in the bathroom he better be heavily sedated.

"I think I'll manage."

"Ok, be careful and take your meds." Kensi instructed with a tone that was usually reserved for misbehaving four year olds. As she turned to go, she leaned back and ruffled his already sleep tousled hair.

"I love you, Kens." He called loudly as she let herself out. "Fern, partner." The only answer he got in return was the resounding sound of the door being locked.

For the second time that evening Marty Deeks woke to the feel of hands grasping at him.

"Geez Kens," He mumbled groggily. "I tol' you 'm fine." Fingers tightened on his shoulders and Marty tensed, realizing that the hands definitely did not belong to his partner. His eyes flew open, blinking furiously in the dark to see two shadowy figures above him.

"Wha-" Was all he got out before an arm hooked around his neck from behind and began squeezing steadily. Marty tugged at his assaulter's arm, digging to find purchase and kicking out blindly with his legs until another set of hands held him down. His vision was a fuzzy black now as the pressure against his neck increased and a growing buzzing noise filled his ears. Marty's last thought before his living room turned black was 'Really?".

A/N: Apologies for the wee cliffhanger. Couldn't help myself.


	3. Woman's Intuition

**A/N:** Hello everyone,

back with another chapter, woohoo. This one is shorter than the others, but I really want to make sure what I write is up to par.

That being said, let me address a few reviews. First of all to Guest 1#, I do not claim to be a medical professional but I am familiar with the patient portion of the institution. In my own experience, protocols can often be ignored overlooked if the hospital is too busy or if it is a weekend and I was playing on this idea in my story. As for the rest of your review, I'm not quite certain what you were trying to say.

As for my other reviewers, thanks so much for your kind words and continued support. Also thanks for all the follows and favorites. :)

Woman's Intuition

Kensi Blye checked her texts for the fifth time in ten minutes, eliciting a sound an irritated sound from Sam. She smiled innocently across the table and discretely slipped her cell beneath her desk.

"Kensi, you're getting obsessive." The older agent observed, fixing her with a tolerant expression that made Kensi feel like a little girl again.

"I am not." She defended heatedly. "I have texted Deeks six times since I left last night and he hasn't responded at all." Kensi held up her phone as evidence.

"He's probably zonked out on pain meds." Sam said reassuringly.

"Oh, excuse me for being worried about my partner who just got _shot_ twice."

"What's Deeks done now?" Callen asked, wearing his normally blasé expression.

"Have you talked to Deeks?" Kensi said as Sam answered.

"Kensi's gone all mother hen again. Thinks Deeks is in trouble." Callen nodded, digesting the information before calmly replying.

"Yeah, Deeks and I had our nightly bedtime chat, then we watched _Sex and the City_." Kensi scoffed at his attempts at humor.

"I never realized how unfunny you guys are." Callen ignored her jab, turning to Sam instead.

"Why is she worried about Deeks?"

"Hey, I'm standing right here." Kensi said, interrupting Sam's answer.

"He hasn't answered her seventy million texts."

"Kensi, I think Deeks has shown he can take care of himself." Callen soothed.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far." Sam muttered darkly.

"Are we talking about the same guy, cause last time I checked he just got shot and can barely move without blacking out." Kensi turned towards the entrance, half expecting Deeks to show up following her less than complimentary assessment of him.

"I'm going over there." She said suddenly, reaching for her gun.

"You better check with Hetty." Callen warned.

"Check what with me?" Hetty asked from behind them and Sam did a fine job of keeping his jump to a minimum.

"I think something's happened to Deeks." Kensi blurted out before the other two agents could say anything. Hetty simply nodded and gestured towards the door.

"Take Mr. Callen with you."

Marty woke to a persistent pounding in his head and a vague sense of panic he couldn't quite place. After a moment his brain caught up to his body, the memory of two men holding him down making his heart race so fast he was sure he could feel the blood pounding through his head. With a great amount of effort he tried to remain as still as possible while he figured out where he was.

Surprisingly his arms were not bound, although as Marty took a second to think about it, it seemed overkill to tie up a man who can't even sit up on his own with any consistency. He was slouched in some type of straight backed chair which wasn't doing wonders for his back or his newly sewn flesh and made him wonder if the piece of furniture was created solely for the use of sadistic minded criminals. The pounding in his head had abated slightly so he now noticed a vague humming noise in the background accompanied by the sound of murmuring. He waited for several more moments and when nothing happened decided that he might as well open his eyes.

On second thought, maybe he should just shut them again. It was the singularly dingy room, with walls the color of old cream, a bare floor with questionable stains and a smell that suggested moths would be at home here. Marty thought that even Arty the bum would look for better accommodations. His assessment was cut short by a sudden coughing fit that burned through his chest and left him breathless. Through the haze he dimly heard a voice say,

"Well, look who's finally awake? Rise and shine gorgeous."

"Like I haven't heard that a million times." Marty slurred, turning his head towards the voice and attempting a bright smile at the shadowy figure he could make out in the dim light. His bottom lip twinged and he licked it reflexively, finding a metallic taste and a cut he couldn't recall receiving.

"Doug mentioned that you were still a smart ass." Marty frowned, scouring his brain for any Dougs he might know who had it in for him. Unfortunately the number of people who disliked him was much larger than the list Kensi had presented him with and inevitably he was bound to forget some of them.

"Doug your girlfriend?" He asked. He knew it wasn't exactly smart to poke the bear but sarcasm was his only defense at this point. The shadow snickered and then Marty felt a hand grab a handful of his hair.

"Jerry, turn on the lights." A second before the light flashed to life, Marty realized with horrifying clarity who the man was.

"Ah, Tom." Marty crooned. "How's it going, catch any mice lately?" His grin never faltered even as a fist snapped his head back, darkening his vision once more.

, he wouldn't just ignore me like that. Not after what's happened." Kensi insisted as she slammed the passenger door. Callen sighed heavily, suggesting that he had heard this particular line of thought repeatedly.

"I'm telling you Kensi, we're gonna open that door and find him laying exactly where you left him, looking like a runaway dog and probably drooling." Kensi made a disgusted sound at his description but wasn't deterred for long, determinedly marching up Deeks' walkway.

"He'd have to get up at some point to eat or use the bathroom. I left him over twelve hours ago." She reasoned as they neared the door and moved to opposite sides. "And you could be a little nicer to him." Kensi admonished which earned a confused expression from the older agent.

"What do you mean, he likes it when I tease him. Makes him feel loved." Kensi narrowed her eyes, simultaneously removing her gun and Callen decided it was a good time to shut up. Kensi knocked sharply against the door, waiting tensely as several moments passed without a response.

"Deeks?" Callen pressed his ear to the door and shook his head.

"Nothing." Kensi's expression was grim as she handed Callen her gun and retrieved her copy of Deeks' house key. She gave a nod and Callen twisted the knob and flung the door open so it banged sharply against the inner wall. If Deeks was still asleep the agents were most likely going to find one ticked off detective Callen thought as he peered around the door.

"He's not on the couch." Kensi whispered. "I'll check his room." She continued, quietly creeping towards the bedroom as Callen cleared the rest of the house. A moment later she returned looking even more worried, if possible.

"He's not there." She said unnecessarily.

"Looks like there was a struggle." Callen said with a nod towards the rumpled couch. Kensi quickly scanned the area, noting the now cold, half-eaten bowl of soup that still sat on the coffee table and the spray of glass that littered the floor, a faint damp spot spread beneath it.

"I left him that glass filled with water and his pills last night, right there." Kensi said quietly, gesturing towards the bare spot on the table.

"They weren't in his bedroom either and it looks like there was a struggle." Callen admitted grimly. He brushed Kensi's shoulder, drawing her attention from the mess surrounding the couch. "I'll let the others know." Kensi nodded stiffly, not really hearing his words as she imagined an injured Deeks' fighting his attackers and ultimately losing. She swiped hastily at her cheek, telling herself there was no way Deeks would dare leave her like this.

 **A/N:** I'm fairly certain that Deeks' bum alias is named 'Arty' but I wasn't able to confirm it as I didn't have time to watch any of the episodes where he appears. If this is not the correct name, please let me know. And apologies for not giving more information about Deeks' whereabouts/abductors. Suspense is the spice of life.


	4. Tom and Jerry Chase their Tails

A/N: Well hello there, it's been a little while since my last update. Sorry about that. I've been rather busy with work and honestly struggled a little with this chapter. I discovered it's rather difficult to write about criminals and make them believable and not cliche.

A/N: Now to address a review. Dear Guest, I'm assuming that you are the same guest who has been reviewing right along. If you are not, I apologize. My goodness are you honest and if I'm being honest, a wee bit confusing. I'm sorry that you do not enjoy the way I have presented this story but this is the way I've chosen to write it and it's not likely to change drastically at this point. If you would like to give any specific suggestions or critiques, they will of course be considered. I'm also glad that you think this story is getting better.

Thanks to every who reviewed, favorited and followed!

In any case I hope you like this and get the references made in the title and throughout the chapter. Thanks for reading! Reviews and so forth are much appreciated.

Tom and Jerry Chase their Tails

Time had not been kind to Tom Gelitz. In the slightly more than three years since Marty last saw the man, he had developed a rather considerable gut that now hung over his unfortunately tight skinny jeans and even in the poor lighting his skin appeared sallow and lined. His hair, which Marty distinctly remembered being a muddy brown rather than its current midnight black, was losing battle with its effort to fully cover his pale scalp. Overall the look which was topped off with an ill-fitting white T-shirt, made him appear infinitely older than his thirty-some years and gave the appearance of a gangster wannabe far past his prime.

"How goes the rat race?" Marty asked, easily falling on Max's tendency to be cruel to those he viewed as beneath him or as in Tom's case, just plain stupid. He saw Tom's jaw tighten and his hand curled into a fist, a reaction that it seemed the other man was still unable to control. That was the nice thing about Max, even when he was clearly at a disadvantage he could make those around him feel inferior.

"And Jerry, how are you?" He continued, speaking confidently to the unlit portion of the room and ignoring the flaring of Tom's nostrils. A large figure peeled itself from the shadows and nodded in Marty's direction.

"Max." Jerry greeted calmly. He seemed unmoved by Marty's, or rather Max's, ribbing. Unlike his brother he never appeared to care that he was being compared to half of a cartoon duo, although Marty acknowledged that it might have something to do with the fact that Jerry's counterpart was a lot wilier than Tom's. Not to mention the fact that Jerry was a freaking beast who made Sam look undersized and if he so desired could crush Marty without his oddly smooth skin ever breaking a sweat.

"I thought you would've blown this craphole by now, not that our current accommodations aren't lovely." Marty drawled and slouched a little more in his chair which sent a surprisingly large amount of pain through his body. He smiled tightly against the throbbing and probably ended up looking quite normal for Max. Jerry shrugged, a movement that managed to flex all the muscles in his chest and upper arms.

"I'm sentimental." Jerry responded quietly and flashed a bright smile. Max snorted and shook his head which had started spinning slightly.

"Ah, you'll have to,mm," Marty paused as a wave of nausea tightened his belly and he prayed desperately not to throw up. He didn't think the action would help his already sore muscles or Max's street cred. "You'll have to give me your interior decorator." He finished once he thought Kensi's antique chicken soup wasn't going to make an encore appearance. Oh lord, he really wished he hadn't thought of that. The nausea returned full force as he pictured the murky yellow liquid.

Tom who had been pacing rather frenetically while Jerry talked apparently wasn't amused by their casual catching up and made an annoyed sound that reminded Marty of a sneezing horse.

"Enough stalling." He muttered and threw an angry glare in the direction of his brother which Jerry returned with a blank stare of his own. This had been going on for as long as Marty had known the brothers. Tom, by virtue of being the older sibling was the leader of the duo despite his often less than stellar business sense. Jerry stayed unflinchingly loyal throughout it all only interfering on occasion when he thought his brother was making a particularly idiotic decision. Otherwise Tom led the two through one bumbling criminal act after another leaving them with a bad reputation and wide open for Max's ridicule and who was Max to refuse the opportunity to kick a petty criminal down another notch.

"You always thought you were so smart, you were so full of yourself but now." Tom paused his rambling for dramatic effect. "But now we know your secret." Marty's pulse sped up despite himself but he raised an eyebrow and hoped he looked suitably annoyed rather than nervous.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He asked derisively because he was Max and Max didn't get scared or show pain or notice than his bare feet were growing increasingly numb from the cold floor. Instead he gave an insolent smile that was sure to make Tom feel insecure and lacking.

Tom jabbed a blunt fingertip into Marty's ribs without warning, making him huff out a breathless sound. Marty glared at the other man and this time he didn't need to fake the feral expression that narrowed his eyes and made him look downright dangerous.

"Poor little Max…all bruised and swollen. Did you have a good time in the hospital, getting all those visits from your sexy cop friend." Each sentence was punctuated by Tom's finger stabbing into Marty's left side. It took several moments for the full meaning of Tom's words to filter through Marty's pain hazed mind and notice Tom's smug expression. He was hard-pressed to control the sudden rage that filled his body and not spring at the other man as he recognized Tom's oblique threat for what it was. He took several deep breaths before he cleared his throat and tossed his hair out of his eyes.

"Cop?" He snorted, the word coming out slightly slurred. "What have you been snorting man? Didn't think you went for that stuff, although I guess it explains a lot." He didn't flinch this time when Tom's fist connected with his kidneys.

"Yeah, the LAPD just _loves_ me." Marty hissed out. He didn't even try to straighten up this time, instead focusing on the marred floor beneath him.

"Max, we know you're a detective." Jerry interjected in a disturbingly gentle tone, especially when compared to Tom's violence. Marty's eye flicked up towards the other man involuntarily. "Doug saw you at the hospital, surrounded by a bunch of cops which made him curious so he stuck around."

"I don't know any Doug." Marty said the name as though it left a foul taste in his mouth and turned his focus to a particularly unusual looking stain on the opposite wall. He saw Jerry shake his head, his expression strangely woeful.

"No, you probably wouldn't remember him. He was just a skinny high school kid when we ran in the same crowd, but he idolized you. Max could do no wrong, he wanted to be you." Marty smiled, ignoring the disturbing tingle and stretch as his lip resplit itself and a trickle of blood slid down his chin. He shrugged.

"What can I say, I'm a popular guy." Had Marty not been playing Max, he would've broken into a full-blown rendition of 'Popular' from Wicked. Of course, he probably would also be surrounded by his coworkers who hated him slightly less than Tom…who was he kidding, Kensi would kill him before he even got to the first chorus.

Jerry for his part, seemed unconcerned by Marty's interruption. Marty found it disconcerting that the other man appeared in no hurry to begin the question and answer portion of this little get together and he wasn't dumb enough to think that the brothers simply wanted to kill him or inflict some well-earned revenge. No, they definitely wanted something out of him and in his current shape that did not bode well. Already he was feeling the effects of missing at least one, but probably more, dose of pain meds, and the rough handling he'd received at the hands of the brothers had not helped matters.

"Doug's less naïve than he used to be, doesn't see everything with a rosey tinge." Jerry began again, drawing Marty's attention away from the imminent pain coming his way. "When he saw you come in with a police escort and your friend called you by a different name, he knew something didn't add up. Wasn't sure what, but he made sure to listen up."

"Well, first of all congratulations on finally having some brains in the family and said family member actually using them for something. Secondly, that's a great story, Jerry, but it's only that, a story. I'm not a freakin' cop and I would've noticed if somebody was stalking me." Deeks spoke in a slow, assured tone, even though internally he was screaming and berating himself for not noticing someone hanging around his hospital room. The image of a skinny teenager was beginning to float up from the recesses of his mind. He was fairly certain he hadn't seen anybody who resembled the eager-to-please Douglas he remembered at the hospital, but then again he'd been in surgery or looped up for a good part of his stay. If he made it out of this alive, Sam would undoubtedly spend the next few months beating the concept of constant vigilance into Marty's head, most likely via a punching bag.

"Doug's an intern now. Said you were too busy staring at your partner to notice anybody else," Tom cut in, spitting out the word partner as though it was a loathsome enemy. "You think you're so smart and you never even saw him there." Tom added sounding vaguely gleeful and Marty swore he saw Jerry roll his eyes.

Marty stayed slouched in his seat, not entirely certain that he could sit up even if he wanted to, hoping to conserve his energy for as long as possible. He had a feeling that Tom's self-control was hanging by a thread, a very tenuous thread that was only there in the first place because of Jerry. He knew that even Jerry's calming appeals to common sense wouldn't last for very long and he'd soon be the recipient of Tom's long-held anger and hatred for Max Gentry. Tom might have all the brain cells of an amoeba, but that didn't make him any less dangerous or violent. Marty was not looking forward to experiencing the extent of Tom's imagination when it came to interrogation methods.

"You thought you were so much better than me and made sure I knew it. And now I'm going to enjoy making you talk." Marty snorted.

"Who are you supposed to be, a bond villain? You're gonna need to drop a few pounds fir-!" Deeks' words were cut off as he curled himself around Tom's fist and used every ounce of his considerable will to hold back the shout of pain building behind his teeth.

"Getting a little weak there, Tommy." He huffed out between unsteady breaths. "Now Jerry, he could be one of the henchmen that never talks." His ribs shifted uneasily with the next punch and his head swam, making breathing an infinitely more difficult task than it had been a minute ago.

"Who else is working with you?" Tom didn't wait for an answer, his next hit leaving behind a disconcerting wet sensation. Marty wondered if there was some prize for having your stiches reopened the most times.

"You're gonna have to be more specific." Marty deflected, which earned him a head-snapping punch to the jaw. He smiled despite the metallic taste in his mouth. "I told you I'm popular." His words were a lot less clear than he intended them to be and his abdomen was burning so sharply he would swear that Tom had shoved a smoldering poker between his ribs.

"STOP LYING!" Tom roared, his pasty face coming within an inch of Marty's, who flinched at his sour breath. He thought he distantly heard Jerry calling some warning but Tom was shouting too loudly and the room was spinning and he couldn't breathe. Tom grasped Marty by the shoulders, nearly lifting him from the chair in his rage. The room shifted as Tom hit his throbbing ribs three times in quick succession and then the room faded to blessed darkness.

A/N: So as I mentioned this chapter was quite troublesome, largely because I'm reluctant to cause poor Marty too much harm. Since he is already recovering from being shot at this point and I'm not creating a fic where Deeks spends ten months in the hospital, Hopefully you still enjoy it and my cartoon duo. :)


	5. Some Silver Linings are a Little Gray

A/N: Hello again everyone,

So it's been a little while since I updated this story, my sincerest apologies.

Again, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed and read, it means a lot to people are enjoying this.

Thanks in particular to fanficforyou, yellowcallalilly, and Beststoriesever for your kinds words. I'm glad you liked this chapter and continue to read. I'm always a little hesitant and nervous after I post a new chapter and you guys help me have a little more faith in myself.

Disclaimer: I own the names of the chapters and little else.

This chapter picks up the action a wee bit so I hope it all makes sense. I did quite a bit of research which ended up being rather pointless since the writers of NCIS:LA have been rather close-mouthed about Deeks' past. If anyone remembers where Max Gentry went undercover and would care to share, that would be awesome. I also tried to find out if there's anyplace even close to the address give for Deeks' home, but as my little sister would say, nupping. So, please excuse the lack of specifics. I didn't feel comfortable giving locations when I am not familiar with the area myself.

Also apologies for any typos.

Once again, please enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Some Silver Linings are a Little Gray

Kensi kept her expression carefully blank as she watched Eric pull the video feed of Deeks' house. It seemed impossible that this was necessary, again. Deeks should have been in his apartment, flopped out on his couch texting her every two minutes to complain about itching scars and begging her to distract him. She shouldn't have to be wondering if he was even alive or imagining the pain he was in or all the damage that could be inflicted on his barely healed wounds.

"Mr. Beale." Hetty prompted calmly, her quiet voice bringing Kensi out of her morbid thoughts.

"Well, we scanned the video after Kensi left and for first hour and seventeen minutes nothing happens, lots of cars drive by, a few walkers, but then" Eric punched something into his tablet and the previously frozen monitor sprang to life just as a beat up corvette pulled into Deeks' driveway. "These guys show up." A moment later two shadowy figures exited the car and made their way to the front door. One was rather tall, easily passing through the shadows with lithe movements despite his height while the other who was of average height didn't even attempt to obscure his face.

"Do we have any idea who they are?" Callen asked as they avidly watched the tall man bend in front of the door while the other kept watch.

"Unfortunately, not yet." Nell answered, her expression dismayed. "As you can see there aren't any plates on the car and so far we haven't gotten any pings through facial recognition."

"Of course that doesn't mean we won't find something." Eric assured the team quickly, obviously noticing Kensi's increasing agitation. "It's only a matter of time." He added which only made Kensi's posture more rigid. "We technical wizards much like mail personnel will not be stopped by rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor individuals who fail to properly register their–" Hetty made a discreet coughing noise.

"Yes, as Mr. Beale was doing his best to communicate, he and Ms. Jones are using all their resources and, I might add, the considerable resources of this agency to discover Mr. Deeks current location. Do not fret, we will find him." Despite Hetty's soothing words, no one looked particularly reassured. Even Sam, who remained stoic, wore a hint of concern in his eyes. No one had the heart to voice Deeks' chances of making through this alive.

Kensi made an involuntary noise as she continued to watch the events play out on the large screen, drawing the rest of the team's attention once more. The front door had abruptly swung open a few minutes after they entered and the shorter man emerged carrying something which he was obviously struggling to keep a hold of. After a few moments the other man followed, hefting what was clearly the upper half of Deeks' body. His unruly blond head stood out starkly in the darkness, almost cradled against the taller man's chest.

Kensi cringed as Deeks' body hung between the two men, his legs limp and his head lolling sideways. It was obvious he was unconscious–she wouldn't allow herself to think of any other reason for his lifelessness. It was too soon to see him this way again, too close to the way he'd looked coming out of surgery. Against her will, she imagined an uneven circle of red spreading over Deeks' pale t-shirt, his skin loosing color.

On screen, the men made their way to the car, struggling to wedge Deeks' lanky and currently uncooperative body into the back seat.

"Ok, so we can assume that he's still alive since they took him. No reason to take a body with you." Kensi glared at Sam's dispassionate assessment. He shrugged. "What, I'm just being practical. It gives him a better chance if they need him for something."

"Great." Kensi muttered. Eric paused the video feed as the car backed out of Deeks' driveway and sped off, nearly clipping a passing minivan.

"After that we were able to follow them until they turned onto N. South St. when they turned into a suburb that has yet to install traffic cams. We haven't caught sight of them again which suggests that they're in an area that also doesn't have any video surveillance or the cameras are out of order." Eric gave an apologetic grimace.

"What about their phones?" Callen asked. Nell shook her head.

"Nothing. It's possible they had burners or didn't have cells at all. In any case, there wasn't any signal to track."

"Who doesn't have a cell?" Callen asked no one on particular.

"Oh, it's actually far more prevalent among adults in lower income areas than you might think." Eric answered which earned him a glare from Sam. "Not that that really matters right now. What does matter is that we don't know where they are and I am going to go work on figuring that out. Right now." With that, Eric made a hasty exit.

"Does Deeks have a security system?" Sam asked. "Those guys got in pretty easily so either they knew his code or we're gonna need to have another little talk."

"Oh my god." Kensi whispered. "I completely forgot to ask him about it. He disarmed it last night when I took him home but then he fell asleep and he was in pain and I didn't even think to ask–" Callen held up his hand, halting Kensi's increasingly panicked diatribe.

"It's not your fault, Kensi." Whatever else Callen might have said was interrupted by several loud pings.

"Oh, looks like we got a match for one of the prints you picked up at Deeks' apartment." Nell tapped her tablet and the image of a man with thinning brown hair appeared on the wide screen. Kensi scowled at the man's picture. "Tom Gelitz, it looks like he's lived in the ghettos for most of his life. He's been arrested for a plethora of petty crimes but only convicted for three, which he served minimal time for. All minor thefts." Nell pulled up a document on her tablet and a second photo appeared on the large screen.

"He also has a brother, Jerry. He has not be convicted but is believed to be his brother's partner."

"Do you have an address on these guys?" Sam asked, staring at the greasy haired man and his brother with disdain. Nell tapped at her tablet once more, flicking through a couple of documents before shaking her head.

"No current address o file, last known address was 211 Littleton Street but that was over five years ago. It's part of the reason the police have so much trouble pinning anything on them, they're basically nomads. The Corvette, surprise, surprise, isn't registered under either Tom or Jerry's names."

"So basically we've got a couple of two bit thugs and you're telling me we can't get a read on them?" Sam asked in disbelief. Nell shrugged.

"What's their connection to Deeks?" Callen asked and Nell immediately began tapping away at her tablet. "He ever try to arrest either of them?"

"No, no record of Deeks and these two coming in contact. And from what I can tell he had no part in Tom's arrests."

"Ok, looks like we're headed to the ghettos." Callen said, his words earning a sigh of relief from Kensi who was getting antsy waiting for something to happen.

"Ms. Jones perhaps you could compile a list of the Mr. Gelitzes' friends and colleagues." Hetty's tone suggested exactly what she thought of anyone who might call themselves friends of the brothers. "I'm sure it will come in handy for finding our Mr. Deeks' location." Hetty finished, her pleasant tone not quite masking the worry that was infiltrating the entire team. She gave Nell an indecipherable look then which the petite analyst returned with a nod of understanding.

"What was that?" Callen asked Hetty with unconcealed suspicion.

"Nothing that you should concern yourself with, Mr. Callen. You best ready yourselves, I believe this may be an arduous undertaking." With those sage words and a secretive expression she glided from the room.

"Nell…?" Callen said, approaching the small woman with the air of a lion stalking a gazelle.

"I have to go recalibrate my interface before I run these names so I should get started on that." Nell said quickly, taking short little steps backwards the entire time until she had slipped through the sliding doors.

"She made that up didn't she?" Callen asked, sounding both annoyed and vaguely amused.

"This isn't funny." Kensi said tightly. Callen turned around, looking surprised by her angry tone.

"I know, Kensi. We all want to get Deeks back in one piece." Kensi crossed her arms over her chest and continued as though Callen hadn't spoken.

"He was unconscious, Callen. And that video, it's from almost sixteen hours ago. They could have done anything to him by now." Callen stayed silent for a moment, surprised by Kensi's unprecedented show of emotions. He supposed they had all been thrown for a loop over the past week or so and this latest development only added to the strain.

"He's a fighter, Kens. As much as it annoys me most the time, he never backs down and always gets back up. We'll get him back." Callen soothed, going so far as to lay a comforting hand on Kensi's shoulder. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before she slowly let it out and turned to face Callen.

"What if this time, that isn't enough?"

"Just answer the question and this can be over." Marty stared up into Tom's sweaty, snarling face, he had little choice given his slouched position, and grinned through a mouth full of blood. Tom growled.

"You know, I never did," Marty paused to spit, smiling when Tom jumped back to avoid it landing on his scuffed shoes. "Like bossy people." He finished. This time he aimed for Tom's disturbingly saggy pants. He shoots, he scores. It was entirely worth the kidney punch to see the look of utter disgust on Tom's face.

Tom made a sound of rage and his foot lashed out, colliding with the chair Marty sat on. As he felt himself falling through the air, he decided that perhaps he had taken the whole goading business a bit too far. He landed hard on his back despite all attempts to brace himself, jarring his already abused body. Marty screamed, unable to keep the harsh, pain-filled sound from slipping through his clenched teeth. Distantly, somewhere beneath the pain, he felt the back of the chair fracture.

"Tom! What the hell are you doing?" Both men turned towards Jerry, Tom with the air of a guilty child and Marty with inconcealable relief. Jerry stalked into the room, his fierce expression at odds with the shopping bag he held full of discount junk food. Never in his life had Marty been so glad to see the walking advertisement for steroid abuse.

"We had a misunderstanding." Tom said, perhaps thinking that it sounded rather intelligent. Jerry simply narrowed his eyes at his brother, depositing his shopping on the floor.

"How many times do I have to remind you that he's useless to us if you kill him or if you keep knocking him out every five minutes." Tom straightened his back, the movement failing to make him appear at all intimidating.

"Well, your way isn't working either." Jerry rolled his eyes at Tom.

"It just takes a little creativity, Tom." Jerry said with a smile, his eyes glinting with unsettling amusement and Marty began to wonder if perhaps he'd underestimated him. "Get him up." Jerry ordered and oddly enough Tom listened. As he grasped the sides of the chair, Marty wasn't entirely certain he wanted to part company with the floor. Even though his current position was causing a tight pressure in his chest he was certain that the next round of interrogation would make it seem delightful in comparison.

Tom jerked the chair up none too gently and Marty didn't attempt to fight him. He'd been wracking his brain for an escape plan ever since he'd woken. Unfortunately his options were severely limited due to his weakness. Even if he had the energy to start a fight he knew he was severely outnumbered.

Tom roughly grasped the front of Marty's shirt, jerking him up in the chair, the broken slat on the back digging into his skin. Marty fought to keep his expression neutral as he pushed a little more firmly against the slat to feel the amount of give. It seemed to have cracked in the middle but remained in one piece. For the first time that night–scratch that, at least the past week–his luck was beginning to look up, if you considered a broken scrap of wood as a possible weapon lucky. Since Marty was used to looking for the silver lining in a situation and this was far from the worst situation he'd ever found himself in, he wasn't about to complain.

During Marty's momentary lapse in attention, it appeared that Tom and Jerry had taken the opportunity to discuss their evil plans. Jerry looked extremely pleased with himself and was standing even taller than usual while Tom was shooting his brother angry and sullen glares.

Jerry sauntered closer, flexing his muscles in a way that reminded Marty of a gay stripper he once knew. He smiled a little at that. He doubted Jerry would be too pleased with his comparison but then again he really didn't know the man all that well, maybe he would be flattered.

"So, Max…"

"Present and accounted for." He quipped, thinking that it was odd that both Tom and Jerry persisted in calling him by his undercover name.

"Obviously, pain alone isn't getting us anywhere so we're going to try something a little…different." Jerry continued, slowly pacing the room in gentle sweeps, each one bringing him a step closer to Marty. He wondered just how long the usually quiet and seemingly gentle man had been waiting for his moment of glory. Slowly Jerry reached into his pocket, his grin growing with each second. When he removed his hand Marty flinched, expecting the other man to be holding a weapon of some sort. He relaxed marginally when he realized that Jerry's fist was clutched around something small which he proceeded to toss at Marty. He caught it instinctively and stared at it for a moment before he realized what was in the little orange bottle.

"Well that's damn considerate of you. I'd say you're just in time for my next dose." Marty drawled, holding up his wrist to peer at an imaginary watch. Meanwhile his other hand tightened reflexively around the cylinder. Turned out Jerry was a far clever and cruel SOB than Marty had ever imagined.

"Now, I'd guess that it's been at least twelve hours since your last dose. I bet you're feeling a little bit of pain, especially with Tom's love for brute force." Jerry smiled knowingly and his next pass brought him to the opposite side of the room where Marty could no longer see him. Suddenly he felt a moist warmth against his neck and jumped despite himself. He could feel each of Jerry's soft laughs breathed against his skin.

"So here's how it's gonna go: You answer a question, you get yourself closer to a happy pill. You don't answer a question and Tom gets some payback and you lose a pill." Jerry wrapped one of his large hands around Marty's throat and rubbed his thumb across his Adam's apple in a disturbingly gentle caress. Jerry's fingers tightened a fraction and he used that moment of distraction to snatch the pill bottle from Marty's now lax hand.

Marty heard the pop of a lid being removed and then something clattered to the ground. A second later Jerry's foot came into view on Marty's left side. He lifted his foot to show the small white pill beneath and then slowly ground the steel toe of his boot into it. Jerry leaned father over Marty, still loosely holding his throat, palm warm against his chilled skin.

"One down, about twenty to go."

"Ok, Kensi you and Sam go to the Gelitz brother's favorite bar, 'The Shack'." Callen made a face. "Ask around, you have the pictures Eric sent to your phones, bribe people if you have to. I don't think it's going to be too difficult to get people to talk about these guys. They don't sound like the sharpest tools in the crayon box."

Kensi nodded, her earlier fear having been replaced by a fierce attentiveness. She was cleaning her gun with disturbing amount of intensity that had Sam taking a step away from her. They were just grabbing the last of their gear, when Nell scurried in, holding up a hand.

"Guys there's something you should see." Her tone was not promising as she turned on the closest monitor and pulled up whatever she'd found per Hetty's request. "Jerry and Tom Gelitz are reported to have had a number of run ins with one Max Gentry." At the team's blank looks a picture of Deeks popped up on the screen and she gravely explained. "It's one of Deeks' aliases."

"So Deeks knows these guys from when he was undercover?" Sam asked and Nell nodded.

"And by all accounts it was not an amicable relationship. Max Gentry made the brothers look pretty bad in more than a few jobs they were running and ended up stealing quite a bit of business, if you will, from them."

"Ok, so these guys obviously are looking for revenge against Deeks– or rather Max Gentry." Callen summed up.

"Oh, there's more." Nell said in a voice that suggested they wouldn't like her next revelation. "I searched any individual connected to the Gelitzes' and I found a name, Douglas Tourney. He's Tom's half-sister's step-son." Nell squinched up her face.

"What does he have to do with Deeks?" Kensi asked, pacing the room and looking annoyed by the delay.

"Douglas Tourney also happens to be an intern at Pacific Beach Medical. He was working the day Deeks was shot."

A/N: So Kensi in particular might seem a little OOC in this chapter but I felt she wouldn't be able to keep all that worry inside anymore.


	6. We Got the Blues

A/N: Hi. I'm back. Again. Usual excuses, work blah, blah, blah. Everyone is quitting blah, blah, blah. Anyway, hope you all are still enjoying this.

I've been working on this bit by bit trying to keep true to the characters and of course have Deeks be his usual awesome self while throwing in a reasonable dose of whumpage. Again, hopefully that came through. At this point in the story, timelines when switching between Deeks and the rest of the team aren't the same.

I tend think my titles are slightly brilliant but then I often also think they're somewhat stupid and cheesy. I'm not sure if anyone gets the reasoning behind them, but just know that I put a lot of effort into everything I write, including chapter titles, despite lack of knowledge, experience, or dreaded writer's block.

On a side note I have recently and somewhat surprisingly gotten my younger sister hooked on NCIS: LA. She has solemnly declared that she will marry Deeks, or 'Geeks', as she calls him. Let's just say it's a good thing that Eric Christian Olsen is not residing anywhere near Indiana.

Disclaimer: Yeah right.

Thanks to those who have reviewed as well as those who have followed and favorited. It makes my little heart go pitter-patter.

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We Got the Blues

The moment Nell stopped speaking Kensi was ready to track Doug down and beat the truth out of him if necessary. Forget the questioning, this man obviously knew something and she was going to find out what it was. The rage that had been burning in her stomach and building steadily came to a boil. She was sick and tired of people hurting her partner. This time someone was going to pay, preferably slowly and very painfully.

"Kens, just slow down for a minute." Callen called as she continued for the mission's front door. She brushed off the calming hand placed on her forearm, fixing him with a look of incredulity.

"Callen this guy might know something about where Deeks is, we have to find him."

"I know. And we will." Kensi opened her mouth to object but Callen raised a finger and continued. "If we go in there and just arrest this guy and start asking about Max Gentry or Marty Deeks chances are somebody will get word to the Gelitz brothers. If Doug did help out his uncle, we don't know that he won't find some way of tipping them off again. Sometimes family trumps everything." Kensi huffed out a sound, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

"So what, we just tail him and wait til he decides to visit whatever dump these two have holed up in?" Callen paused for a moment to consider and then turned to share a conspiratorial glance with his partner.

"I'm sure we can dig up a reason to bring him in, say as the LAPD?" Sam said in an innocent tone. "Suspicion of aiding and abetting known criminals sounds pretty good to me. I doubt even Douglas is loyal enough to risk going to prison for a couple of shmucks like his uncles." He glanced balefully at the screenshot of Doug, who was smiling charmingly while he talked with Deeks' nurse.

"Looks like we've got a little bit of backstopping to do or do you think we can get away with previous aliases?" Eric pondered, still fiddling with his tablet. "Ooh, I wonder if Hetty still has those uniforms from the last time 'cause it was pretty hard to get one large enough to fit Sam." Nell grabbed his arm, heading for the stairs away from Sam's focused glare. "Sam are you a si–" Whatever else Eric might have said was cut off with a squeak and a protesting 'hey'.

"We'll start making up some ID's for you guys. Are we looking at two or three LAPD Detectives?" Nell called from above.

"Three." Sam answered decisively. "I'm sure a picture of Kensi as a lady cop will brighten up Deeks' day once we find him." Kensi growled as Callen snickered, her fist a blur of motion as it met with his bicep.

"Geez, Kensi." He choked as he failed to completely stifle a moan. "No wonder Deeks is so afraid of you." Sam simply shook his head and muttered something that sounded like 'pitiful'.

"Guys." Kensi protested. Normally she'd be cracking jokes right along with them but normally her partner wasn't riddled with bullet holes and god knows where probably being beaten half to death. She never thought she'd miss his stupid jokes and shaggy hair but right now she would do anything to see his scruffy face again. It didn't even matter if he knew or how much fun he had at her expense, so long as he came back to the team in reasonably good condition. Which was becoming less and less likely the longer they stood here doing nothing.

"Kensi!" She jumped, reaching for her gun on instinct before she noticed Callen watching her with a concerned expression, his hands raised defensively. "Hey, easy." Kensi flushed at having been distracted so easily.

"I just don't think you guys are taking this seriously enough." She said in a calm, slow voice, her back uncomfortably straight as if to prove that she was behaving normally.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Callen said in a muted voice, ignoring her efforts to redirect his attention. Over his shoulder Kensi could see Sam staring at one of his origami creatures with undue focus. "You need to let me know if your head is in the right place because chances are that when we talk to this guy, we're not gonna like what he has to say. I need to know that you're not going to do something rash." Kensi snorted despite herself.

"Oh right, like you're one to talk about rash behavior." Kensi said scornfully.

"That was not rash behavior, that is called being proactive." Callen stated firmly.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the term Hetty used in her debriefing." Sam added sarcastically. The other two agents turned to him with annoyed expressions. "What? I can't contribute?" Callen narrowed his eyes while Kensi let out a huff of exasperation. Sam rolled his eyes and began folding a post-it note into little squares, muttering under his breath about 'touchy partners'.

"Seriously though, Kensi. Can you do this?" Callen asked again, his voice lowered to a whisper so even Sam wouldn't be able to hear from a few feet away.

"Yes." Kensi answered immediately and decisively. "G, I have to be there. I need to know that my partner's ok…and make the people responsible pay if he's not." She added the last part reluctantly, as though even mentioning that Deeks might be in any worse shape than when she last saw him, would make it inevitable. "I need to do something, or I'll go crazy waiting and wondering. You'd do the same for Sam." Although she tried to keep her voice steady, the fine tremors of emotion were audible and it was clear that the admission had cost her. Callen somewhat awkwardly patted her shoulder, keeping his gaze anywhere but on her face.

"Ok, but we follow my lead, alright?" Kensi nodded. Her eyes were suspiciously shiny which made Callen fidget and glance around in obvious discomfort. Sam nodded towards her, giving his partner a pointed glance. Callen merely looked confused until with a heavy roll of his eyes, Sam made a circle with his arms and squeezed the air between them.

"Seriously G?" He said when it became clear that Callen either wasn't interpreting his gestures or purposely ignoring them. "You're unbelievable." With a sigh Sam pushed Callen out of the way and wrapped his large arms securely around Kensi's torso, giving her a solid and comforting pat on the back. "Don't worry Kens, we'll get your mutt back."

* * *

Marty Deeks lifted his head slowly, muscles straining with the simple effort. He felt a drop of sweat trickle down his forehead, stopping to dangle on the end of his nose for a moment. Jerry was seated across from him, peering kindly at him as he rolled a small pill between his forefinger and thumb. Marty averted his gaze as though it would make the pill disappear and shifted slightly in an attempt to ease the cramped feeling in his back as his vertebrae rubbed against each other.

"Come on Max, you already used up seven. I know it's getting worse. You can't even sit straight, you can't breathe." Jerry paused in his evaluation to give Marty a once over. "Man, you're shaking like it's twenty degrees in here." He shook the orange bottle which was held, uncapped in his other hand. "A few of these and you won't even remember what pain feels like." Marty croaked out a very painful laugh.

"Oh Jerry, if you think this is bad then you never met my father. This?", Marty gestured to his crimson dotted torso, "This is nothing compared to what he could do. So I guess what I'm saying is, 'bring it on'." He grinned, the gesture tight and angry. In truth the area around his bullet wounds had increased to an unrelenting, fiery burn which tapered off into a lung squeezing ache around his ribs. Letting the grin drop, he allowed himself to slouch a little further, surreptitiously pressing against the broken slat. The movement had a dual purpose; not only was he slowly but surely loosening the bit of wood but also hopefully convincing Jerry that he was nearing complete exhaustion, not an entirely ridiculous notion.

"Besides, you're just gonna hand me over to some nice drug lord who I'm sure can be so much more creative than you when it comes to making people talk." Marty paused to take a shallow breath. "Helps when you have an expense account…and partners who can actually be described with the term homo sapiens." He flicked his eyes towards Tom who was pacing frenetically a few feet from the door. The room was so small that he had to turn every ten or so feet to avoid bumping into a wall which made him look a bit like a wind- up toy.

"My point being, I don't really see the benefit of me talking." Marty finished, focusing his gaze on Jerry once again. He slid a few inches lower and watched the other man smirk ever so slightly before he was able to hide it. Sadistic SOB. Marty bit back a hiss of pain that threatened to erupt every time he moved. What he wouldn't give for a couple of the Vicodin currently melting in Jerry's palm. Of course if he was making extravagant wishes, he might as well go for not being shot at all. He must have really ticked somebody off in the great beyond, Marty thought, because he was certain that normal people didn't deal with the kind of crap he got thrown at him.

"Max?" Marty blinked slowly, wondering for a moment why someone was calling him Max and, more importantly, why it smelled like Monty did right before a long overdue bath.

Someone was talking again...oh, right, Jerry. This had happened a few other times in the last couple hours; sudden lapses in attention where Marty completely lost track of his surroundings. It was a delightful reprieve since the amount of pain seemed to diminish with all other stimuli but Marty also recognized that his decreasing awareness did not point to a successful escape. He wasn't foolish enough to think that his reflexes were anywhere near normal or that Jerry and Tom wouldn't put up a decent fight.

His entire plan of escape was dependent on the chance that one of the brothers might need to leave. Personally he was hoping it would be Jerry as he was undoubtedly the brighter and fitter of the two. At some point they'd need the bathroom and Marty was fairly certain his deluxe accommodations didn't come equipped with a functioning plumbing system.

He shifted again another all too real moan escape. Jerry stared back, apparently unmoved by his pain. The world tilted suddenly and Marty reflexively grabbed onto the edges of the chair. Distantly he heard a wheezing noise as the dingy room continued to swirl around him and after a moment he realized it was the sound of his own panicked breathing.

"That doesn't sound very good, Max." Jerry observed, continuing to stare at him with a vaguely concerned but mostly detached expression. Marty would have glared but he was too busy keeping his lungs from collapsing on each other. "Max, Max…" He felt a warm hand gently run through his hair, ending in a caress at the nape of his neck. It only added to the increasing feeling of nausea that threatened to bubble up from Marty's stomach. "Don't be stupid." Jerry finished with both hands firmly resting on his shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. If possible, Marty felt even sicker. He didn't normally enjoy being felt up by psychopaths but it was made so much worse by the fact that he hadn't completely hated Jerry the way he did Tom.

"Never thought I'd say this, but Tom just keeps looking better and better." Marty muttered weakly. Unlike his brother, Jerry barely reacted, instead keeping his palms slowly rubbing back and forth across the thin material of Marty's t-shirt and occasionally a bit of his neck. Vaguely he wondered where Jerry had stashed his meds since the other man's hands were obviously otherwise occupied. Realizing he must be even more out it than he thought, Marty gave himself a mental shake and an order to pay better attention.

"You should realize by know, Max, that I am not my brother. Your little games and insults won't work with me." As he spoke Marty felt his fingers creep down his neck and across his chest where they suddenly dug in. A fresh trickle of blood seeped beneath the bandage which Marty could feel clinging uncomfortably to his skin, never quite getting the chance to dry completely. He hadn't lost a significant amount of blood yet but given his already weakened state it felt as though several pints had spilled from his abdomen.

"Then I guess you won't care when I tell you this reminds of the time I accidentally got a lap dance…except he was prettier." There was a brief moment when he felt Jerry lean slightly closer and he thought perhaps he'd taken it a step too far. Then Tom let out a growl of rage that had both of the other men glancing up in surprise.

"This isn't working! You said you could make him talk and he isn't." As Tom stalked forward he jerked a gun from the waistband of his pants.

"Tom, what are you doing?" Jerry asked, sounding as though he was speaking to a misbehaving child but Marty could hear the faint thread of worry beneath. He rounded the chair, one hand lifted in a universal halting gesture. Marty personally thought this wasn't the brightest idea since Tom currently looked a bit like a rabid dog preparing to charge.

"He's not going to talk. I say we just shoot him and get what we can." Tom answered, his eyes glued to Marty.

"Tom, we agreed–"

"I didn't agree to nothing!" Tom screamed. Jerry stumbled back a step as the gun's focus turned to him.

"Don't do anything stupid–" Jerry's warning was cut short as Tom came rushing at him in a clumsy tackle. Even though he was much taller, Jerry still slammed noisily against the dirty wall. Tom swung the gun towards Jerry's head who feinted to the right just before it made contact with the wall. He didn't miss the second time and Marty couldn't help but wince when the metal ripped a deep gash across the other man's temple, sending him to the floor in a boneless heap.

Taking advantage of Tom's momentary distraction and Jerry's unconscious state, Marty reached behind his back and wrenched the splintered slat from the chair with a jerk that sent a deep spasm of pain through his chest. He got to his feet but found himself unable to straighten fully and stood bent at the waist, heaving in deeps breaths to clear his suddenly hazy vision. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tom turn towards him and he realized he was making a sound similar to a raging rhinoceros. Marty didn't give the other man time to react. Before Tom could completely raise the gun still clenched in his fist, Marty was on him, plunging the uneven bit of wood into his stomach. Tom let out a gurgle of pain and stumbled back in surprise. Not pausing for a moment to consider the horrendous pain now coursing through his stomach, he kicked Tom's legs from beneath him and grasped his arm, yanking it to the side until he heard a sickening pop. Tom howled, the gun dropping from his now loosened fingers.

Marty paused for a moment over Tom's inert body and watched as his eyes glazed over with pain. Quickly he patted down the man's pockets before moving on to Jerry. Neither man was carrying a phone. Cursing them both silently, he snatched up Tom's abandoned gun.

"I'd say I'm sorry man but" Marty shrugged, "We both know I wouldn't mean it." He leaned over Tom again and patted his cheek, mumbling, "Stupid cat never won." Carefully, and taking far longer than he cared to acknowledge, Marty stumbled to his feet and headed for the door. Amazingly it opened on the first try. Clearly criminal masterminds these men were not; Marty chuckled dryly although there was no one to hear him.

As he stumbled out of the room, he absently noted that his hand was thinly coated in blood, though whether it was his or Tom's he wasn't sure. "Huh." He muttered, wiping his palm on his shirt. The material was sticky beneath his skin. "That can't be good." He said to himself, noting that the trail of red had begun to seep into the waistband of his pants.

There was a short entryway that led to the front door which, judging by the rusty barely attached bolt, was not locked. After a little maneuvering and tugging which left Marty feeling breathless, he found himself standing on a patchy little square of grass. Actually it was more mud than lawn, featuring the tiny shack of a house that had been his recent abode.

A slight gust of wind caught him in the face, ruffling his hair and making him shiver as it hit the moist fabric of his t-shirt. It was nearly dark out, just a hint of dusky blue highlighting the ground. There were no streetlights, or at least not ones that were functioning which meant it would soon be pitch black out.

Unfortunately Marty recognized the area and understood why no one had been bothered by the obvious sounds of someone being beaten. Casual violence was practically a way of life in this little rundown neighborhood. Even now the two or three people who had braved the outside world didn't seem terribly bothered by the sight of a heavily bleeding man with a gun, tripping from an abandoned house.

It was just the same as when he was a kid getting beaten on by his dad…nobody had bothered to see if little bruised Martin was okay. Or wondered at the matching fist shaped tattoos he and his mother had often wore to the store. God, it was a good thing Kensi couldn't hear inside his head…his partner would never let him live it down.

He shook his head a couple times to clear the melancholy thoughts and only ended up making his head spin that much more. Drunkenly, he headed off down a dark alleyway, praying that his sense of direction was still intact.

* * *

A/N: And there we are, the latest chapter in all its glory.

For those of you who also watch the original NCIS, is anyone else mourning the news that Michael Weatherly is leaving after this season? (Apologies if you've just heard this news).

On a minor note, for anyone wondering about the use of homo sapiens, after a bit of research I discovered that the term is both singular and plural. If I'm wrong about this, my deepest apologies. I realize that I apologize a lot...I'm sorry...

All descriptions of Deeks' injuries/pain come from either my imagination or my hazy memories of a painful abdominal surgery.


	7. What's Thicker Than Water?

A/N: Tada, another chapter! We're coming to a close here, so I hope this has been worth the wait.

Disclaimer: Es ist nicht meins.

Reviews: Thanks for all the comments and encouragement. You all are so nice.

 _jmlane1966:_ I'm glad you like it. I like to keep things as canon as possible, even when going AU.

 _Fanficforyou:_ That is the question…what shall I do to Deeks next (cue maniacal laughter).

 _Mefoote:_ That would be nice but I'm not sure how likely it is. I can go Tiva, or Jeanne/Tony, or basically any realistic ending that has him happy and not cut off from his surrogate family.

 _Honus47_ : I try, but I usually don't succeed. I think there are only one or two more chapters after this so not too much more waiting.

Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

* * *

What's Thicker Than Water?

Douglas Tourney was tall, lean and reasonably handsome with brown hair a few shades darker than his skin. He was all in all a rather clean young man who at least by his appearance, seemed the least likely individual to be involved in anything underhanded. Based on the way Kensi was currently glaring at him; however, he may as well have been a mass murdering maniac who lit puppies on fire in his spare time.

Doug shifted nervously in his chair as Kensi tapped a nail against the table and glanced anxiously around the interrogation room. They had been sitting there for roughly twenty minutes and every slow click of Kensi's fingernail seemed to increase Doug's agitation exponentially.

"Is...is somebody gonna tell me why I'm here?" He ventured for the third time since they'd picked him up outside his apartment. Kensi growled and Doug automatically leaned back in his seat. "Look I told you guys a hundred times, I didn't do anything!" Doug nearly shouted, sending a terrified and almost pleading expression towards the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

Outside the room Callen and Sam watched, looking mildly amused by Kensi's performance. She hadn't asked a single question yet and already the guy was ready to spill every secret he'd ever kept.

"So, how long do you think you guys are gonna be?" Callen turned towards the speaker with a disinterested expression. "Cause we've got interrogations of our own to do." His back was already turned by the time Officer David Lewis finished speaking.

"We'll let you know when we're through." Sam offered in a bland tone. He glanced over his shoulder to find the man wearing a clearly frustrated expression.

"You know, I didn't have to let you in here. I'm sure somewhere in the LAPD protocols there's a rule against this." Officer Lewis said warningly. His friendly demeanor had become decidedly cooler over the last hour as the three NCIS agents had taken over select parts of the precinct. It most likely had not helped matters that they were treating the officer like their own personal lackey.

"Yeah, tell that to Hetty." Callen said in that same bland voice with just a hint of amusement and superiority. Sure enough, Officer Lewis blanched a little and looked a less sure of himself. The inevitable run-in had happened shortly after he had insisted that he couldn't let the agents dress in police uniforms or for that matter, pretend to be members of the police force. He'd remained staunch in that respect, not even yielding to the reminder that they were a federal agency…that was until Hetty had popped up on a video call and mentioned traffic control. To sweeten the deal the tiny women had already gone over his head and straight to the chief of police.

Suffice it to say, David was feeling less than delighted by NCIS and its members' continued presence.

"You are related to Tom and Jerry Gelitz?" All three men snapped their attention back to the one-way mirror as Kensi asked her first question.

"Uh, yeah." Douglas answered hesitantly as he glanced down at the photos placed in front of him. "What's this got to do with my uncles?" He asked, chuckling nervously. "I mean, I haven't even seen either of 'em in like two months."

"Last month they were wanted for the suspected robbing of a convenience store. Since then two more stores have been robbed in the same manner." Kensi slid a photo of Doug shaking hands with Jerry as she spoke. Doug stared at it as though it contained condemning evidence.

"I have nothing to do with anything like that." He said with raised hands. "I'm just an intern…I help people."

"Yes, you help people. Like your uncles." Doug swallowed convulsively.

"No, I didn't–"

"Then why were you talking with him?" His noise of protest was caught off as Kensi slid a glossy and remarkably clear photo of him next to Jerry Gelitz.

"How did you even get…?" Doug cut himself off, seeming to realize that denial was useless and weakly added, "We were just talking."

"Doug, if we find out that you had any prior knowledge of your uncles' actions you could be considered complicit in their crimes." Kensi informed him without remorse.

"Look, I never–" Doug swallowed harshly again. "That was never my thing. I knew for a long time that they were into some stuff that wasn't exactly…legal. But I never had anything to do with it." Kensi fixed him with another burning stare.

"So you didn't help them, you just knew that they were involved in illegal activity?" He glanced at the two-way mirror and let out a nervous chuckle.

"You keep twisting everything I say." Doug murmured ruefully as he shook his head. After a few moments he met Kensi's gaze again and leaned forward. "I'm not a bad person." He insisted.

"Then tell us where they are." Doug looked away again, with a nervous yet oddly determined expression.

"You know," Officer Lewis said from the other room. "He's not gonna tell her anything."

"Don't worry, Kensi's just getting started." Sam answered dismissively.

"But your guy doesn't have that much time, does he?" Lewis said in a voice that was surprisingly sincere. "You want him to break, give him a few minutes in a holding cell with our catch of the day. He won't be so loyal once he's faced with the possibility of real jail time."

"I thought you were worried about the code of conduct." Callen drawled, still facing away from Lewis.

"At this point, I'm ready to do anything to get you three out of this precinct." He responded, his voice acidic. "Besides, we're doing this for one of our own, right?" Sam smiled at the man for the first time.

"I like the way you think. Now where's this holding cell?"

* * *

Marty shivered, the old brick walls he walked between emanating a deep chill that seemed to penetrate his skin. A pipe dripped nearby, sounding like a cannon every time the water made contact with the ground and reverberated through his skull like a gonging bell. It was getting harder to see in the growing darkness which hindered Marty's already impaired ability to walk.

He ran into something hard for what seemed like the hundredth time and swore extensively in a slightly slurred voice.

"Really?! Come on!" He growled to the darkening sky. "You don't think this week has been hard enough?" Naturally a light sprinkle of rain was the only answer he received and with another growl, he began moving again in an unsteady weave. It was futile. The chances of him actually making it somewhere safe that offered medical help without the brothers finding his were about as good as a bet that Sam would eat his weight in Twinkies. It would be so much easier just to lie down and wait for the inevitable to happen. At least then maybe his chest would stop aching. He was just so tired.

"C'mon, Marty." He whispered to himself. "You don't just give up, not like this." Marty brought in a shaky, icy breath. "And definitely not for a mouse and a cat." He shook his head a few times in lieu of the more traditional preparatory hopping, given his current condition.

"Ok, ok…this area runs on an east-west grid…which means I want to turn right." Peering around the edge of a building, he saw nothing particularly innocuous. "Alright Marty, let's do this. Let's get you home…maybe Kensi will give you a nice back rub." He chuckled, hearing Kensi imaginary gag and 'In your dreams.' in his mind. "Oh, a guy can always dream." He responded breathlessly.

Stumbling down the next alley, he continued muttering to imaginary Kensi. Oddly he felt the pain begin to fade just a little as Kensi's mocking tone floated through his mind.

* * *

Sam yanked Douglas' arms behind him, tightening the cuffs in a way that elicited a squeak of protest. As the two agents dragged him towards the holding cells, his expression grew more apprehensive. Despite his obvious fear Doug was still spouting a flood of excuses and promises that he wasn't involved in his uncles' crimes.

Kensi might have felt just a tiny bit sorry for him if he wasn't related to the scumbags who had Deeks. She reminded herself of how vulnerable her partner was the last time she saw him and was soon imagining the creative ways she could use her stick fighting skills when they found Tom and Jerry.

"Man, I didn't do anything. Yeah, I talk to them sometimes, they're my uncles, but I never did anything illegal and I don't know anything about their jobs." Doug insisted, his voice rising as Callen shoved him into a cell next to a man wiry looking man with stringy, graying hair and bloody knuckles.

"I'm not a criminal!" He said in a panicky tone that made his cellmate chuckle darkly. Sam shrugged and shared an indifferent look with Callen before he swung the cell door closed with a resounding clang.

The two men headed back up the stairs and were met by Officer Lewis who seemed in a much better mood now that he'd regained some control. Callen jabbed a thumb in the direction of the holding area.

"You sure he'll be okay alone with that guy?" He asked as Lewis lead them into the break room

"Who, Lenny?" Lewis responded in an amused voice. Sam frowned.

"Lenny? You gave him a nickname?" The cop let a chuckle escape.

"Lenny is actually Jacob Larter. He does most of his work in undercover. Just got back from a three month stint as a homeless, paranoid schizophrenic. When I mentioned we needed a last-minute plant, he jumped at the chance." Sam shook his head.

"Sounds like someone we know. Does he always look like that?" Lewis poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Callen.

"Nah, he cleaned up before he came in. He doesn't like to change too much because he's just gonna get sent out again. Lenny likes to get practice without the pressure of potentially getting killed at any moment." Kensi stalked into the room, took one glance at the three men calmly sipping on their coffee and slammed her hand against the table in the middle of the room. Two officers who had been quietly chatting to themselves looked up at the sharp sound.

"Kens…"

"Callen what good is this doing? We're sitting around waiting for some guy to maybe tell us something if he gets lonely enough during timeout.

"Kensi!"

"No, you said to follow you lead but it isn't working."

"Officer Lewis?" Kensi glared at the woman who interrupted her while Lewis gave an apologetic nod.

"There's a Douglas Tourney in holding who's asking to speak with you. Johnston's waiting on line four." Lewis smiled genially and picked up the phone hanging on the wall. He listened for a few minutes, inserting the occasional 'uh-huh' before assuring the other cop that he would handle it. He turned to the NCIS agents with a grin.

"He's gonna talk. Apparently Lenny had one of his fits."

"Well, then let's go talk to the little creep." Kensi muttered, stalking from the room before anyone could notice the flush coloring her cheeks.

A few minutes later they stood in front of a truly freaked out Doug who was all but hiding in the farthest corner from Lenny. Unfortunately for him the tiny cell didn't leave much room for solidarity.

"Get me out of here!" Doug hissed. He sent a wary glance at Lenny who currently had his head pressed against one of the concrete walls and was softly moaning to himself. Kensi could only wonder what he'd done to terrify their witness so thoroughly.

"You first." Sam said with a pointed tilt of his head. Doug frowned and started to say something when Lenny let out a high pitched howl, suddenly darting across the room. Abandoning all sense of dignity, Doug scampered back into the corner and shouted, "Fine, just get me away from him! I'll tell you anything you want."

Impressively even as they let Doug out and secured his arms once more with cuffs, Lenny continued to make a series of disturbing noises and odd frenetic gestures. Kensi had to look away after a few moments when she realized it made her think of Deeks in some of his more bizarre personas. Instead she focused on Doug who was shaking slightly, his breath hitching in and out at infrequent intervals. She couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit of pity for him, try as she might to push it away with thoughts of Deeks bleeding somewhere.

It was with those somewhat conflicting thoughts that Kensi led the way back up to interrogation where Lewis deposited a trembling Doug into a hardback chair. Glancing around at the various assembled agents and officers, even she had to admit that it might be a bit over-kill. Sam stood over the younger man with his flexed arms across his chest which produced a shaky breath from the suspect.

"Ok, spit it out." Kensi prompted when it didn't seem that Douglas was planning to speak anytime soon. He jerked before pulling in a second shuddering breath.

"Ok, ok just…I need a minute." He took several more shallow breaths, whispering something under his breath as he did so. "Ok, so there's this place that Tom and Jerry…go. I mean they've got a bunch of places where they can crash but this is where they go when they need someplace to hide." Doug said, keeping his head down as he spoke.

"And the address?" Doug squeezed his eyes shut.

"109th Westchester Avenue."

* * *

Deeks stumbled into a wall, his head spinning, blood pounding so loudly it made his skull feel as though it might split. Phantom Kensi had disappeared maybe half an hour ago. He'd been chatting with her one moment and then the next she wasn't there and no amount of calling her name or begging brought her back. He'd stopped when his voice was so hoarse that only a thin, painful whisper emerged.

"Kens." He croaked out, the word splitting in the middle. "I could really use you right now, partner." Predictably, she didn't answer. Most stubborn woman he'd ever met. Marty supposed he should be grateful that she hadn't hit him yet. His friendly neighborhood thugs hadn't taken care of that department, thank you very much.

"Ok, I'm sure Sam wouldn't mind a chat. You think you won't miss me, but you'll wish I was there when you least expect it. C'mon Kensi, don't make me do this alone." This time he did hear something, but it wasn't Kensi's voice but rather the sound of someone running, quickly, towards him. Marty heaved in a breath, the cold air sticking in his throat and nearly choking him. His legs were unsteady and he reconsidered just sitting down right there to wait for whoever was coming for him. It would certainly be a lot easier than fighting it out in his condition and if Kensi had given up then he just didn't see much point.

 _Always knew you were a wimp. Cops just can't hack it with a federal agency._ Marty chuckled hoarsely.

"Oh yeah, Blye? Well, I'll take your feds and raise you a public defender who made it through four years of college with shoulder length hair."

 _Gah, so glad I missed the wonder years of Marty Deeks._ He grinned at a water-stained patch of bricks that was apparently standing in for Kensi.

"So, what does the great Agent Kensi Blye, able to leap tall men in a single bound, suggest I do?" Kensi snorted.

 _Well, numb-nuts, that gun in your hand isn't just there to make you look pretty._ This it sounded more like a conglomeration of Sam and Marty's father, but he got the point. He lifted the weapon a little, watching it glint with rain.

"I don't know if I can shoot, Kens. My hands are shaking."

 _I also suggest you run._ Kensi added, her voice completely serious. _Now, Marty._ He ran.

* * *

"You get that address, Beale?" Sam asked, speaking into his comm.

"Roger, on that." Nell answered back. Eric's noise of complaint echoed in the background. "Ok, we got it. It is a legitimate location." She continued after a few moments. "Hmm."

"What's, hmm?" Kensi asked immediately.

"Well," Eric started. "It's just that this place looks pretty nice for the Gelitz, Gelitezes? Anyway, it's not like the Ritz or anything but I think the cops would be able to track them down. I also don't think they'd need to turn to break-ins if they lived here." Callen and Sam shared a worried look while Kensi appeared ready to punch something. "Ok, I located a traffic cam and….ok, yeah, a couple with a baby live there and there's no sign of the Corvette."

"That little piece of crap lied to us!" Kensi hissed.

"Huh, apparently he's tougher than he looks." Callen mused.

"So what are we gonna do?" Eric asked.

"Let him go." Callen decided. "If he's willing to lie to us, then he cares enough to go warn them."

"So all we need to do is follow him and we'll find Deeks." Kensi finished in a calm tone that left no doubt in anyone's mind that finding Deeks wasn't all she had planned. Standing beside the three agents, Officer Lewis looked slightly unnerved.

* * *

The steps were getting closer and Marty was getting slower, each movement taking a momentous amount of energy. Marty knew he was supposed to be walking, but he just couldn't remember why it was so important and his legs were refusing to cooperate. He lifted his foot except it didn't follow his command and he ended up stumbling into a battered metal trashcan that lay sideways in the mud.

A choked noise that might have been a sob or laugh escaped as Marty slid down in a heap. Rain continued to pour from above, soaking his already shivering body. His hair, now a sopping, tangled mess, hung in his eyes but he didn't have the energy to shove it back. Footsteps now echoed loudly from what sounded like just a few yards away.

Well, it was now or never…and never was looking a whole lot closer since it was taking all his effort not face-plant in a pool of muddy water. Raising himself up on shaking arms, Marty managed to flip his body over before his strength gave out again and he collapsed, his head landing in something that made a nasty squishing noise. Everything was blurry, not that there was much to see in the dark, rain sky. He let his eyes slide shut.

"Max." This time there wasn't a hint of warmth or humor in Jerry's voice. It was a deep, growl of barely contained rage and if Marty had even an ounce more energy he might have felt a hint of fear. Well, this was a crappy way to die. Kind of poetic given his upbringing, but he'd really thought he'd come to a more heroic, or at least less miserable, death than this.

"Oh, Max." Jerry repeated, in an icy tone that promised significant pain. Marty managed to lift his head just enough to see the man standing at the end of the alley, his form blocking out dim light. Through slitted eyes he saw Jerry pull something from his pocket which was accompanied by a sharp snick. Fingering the shiny blade, Jerry took a step closer.

* * *

A/N: So there you go. Hope phantom Kensi wasn't too cliché or anything else in this chapter. I had to have a little fluff amongst the angst and pain.

They should really treat cops better than they do. Never know when you might need a stringy haired schizophrenic on your side. (I loved writing Lenny, no matter how briefly he appeared).


	8. Bring Him Home

A/N: Good lord, opened this document so many times with the intention of posting a new chapter. Hopefully you're all still with me.

So this should be the second to last chapter, things are ramping up a bit. You also notice my continued insufficient knowledge of logistics and LA geography. I do my best, hope you'll forgive any mistakes.

For those of you who are also following my other story, I plan to update soon. And I also have like ten new fic ideas, so those might pop up sometime this summer. All hail, summer break and no more children or IEP's for the next couple weeks!

Disclaimer: It would be lovely to own part of CBS since I'm in the market, but I couldn't handle the stress.

 _Guest:_ In answer you have a new chapter which will hopefully be sufficiently pleasing.

 _Hoosier65:_ I'm glad you liked it.

 _honus47:_ Thanks! We shall see. Poor Marty has already been knocked around quite a bit.

 _Marcy:_ I will do my best!

To everyone else who has reviewed and so forth, thanks so much!

* * *

Bring Him Home

"You're driving too close, G."

"I am not." Callen retorted incredulously.

"Even a kid with no street sense is gonna notice you following him."

"Sam, I'm at least three blocks behind him." He insisted but slowed down slightly nonetheless. "Happy?" Callen asked his glowering partner.

"Ecstatic." Sam growled. In the back seat, Kensi ignored their verbal sparring. Her earlier fury had all but disappeared as they drew closer to their destination. She dreaded what they would find. It was closing in on an entire day since Deeks had been taken and despite the Gelitz brothers' various ineptitudes, she held no doubt that they could inflict a great deal of pain and injury.

"Geez, I wouldn't let my dog do his business here." Sam commented in disgust as they their surroundings became increasingly dilapidated.

"You don't have a dog." Callen said, sounding truly annoyed.

"Well, I wouldn't let Deeks' dog out there." Sam retorted as though that ended the subject. Callen just shook his head at his partner and mumbled something that Kensi thought included the word 'cynical'.

"Where is Monty, by the way?" Callen asked over his shoulder. Kensi had the distinct feeling the question came as a method of distraction rather than from any real concern over Deeks' beloved companion.

"One of his friends at the precinct is taking care of him until Deeks' is back on his feet." Kensi answered dutifully but with little interest. She didn't miss the twin looks of amusement her coworkers' shared. With a roll of her eyes, she huffed out a breath and couldn't help adding, "I know because I offered to take Monty for a few days."

"Uh-huh." Sam commented around a giant smirk.

"I was just trying to be a good partner. And you know, Monty's actually not that bad when he's had a bath. His fur gets very fluffy." Kensi shot back defensively, not so much because she had a particular fondness for Monty (he'd somehow managed to get sand in her go-bag the last time she'd broken down and let him ride in the back of the car) but rather because Deeks was not there to do it himself. When push came to shove, NCIS agents were loyal to a fault.

"Like owner, like dog. Do you pet Deeks too when he's been a good boy?" Kensi just barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at Callen.

"Guys, he just took a left at the next street which intersects with E. 4th Street." Eric interrupted, his disembodied voice filtering into the team's earwigs. "It should be five streets up from where you are now and then take a right."

"What do you mean, should be?" Sam questioned. If Eric had been there in person, Kensi bet he'd be stumbling over himself in response to Sam's scathing tone. The thought nearly made her smile.

"Well…" Eric hedged. "This area's GPS mapping isn't the most up to date that it could be." He gave a nervous chuckle and then hesitantly added, "I should probably also mention that cell tower coverage is getting a little spotty."

"And by 'spotty' you mean?" Kensi asked, daring him to answer with anything but Deeks' exact location. They'd been depending on Doug's cell signal and GPS to track him and without it they'd be going in blind and while the ghettos of Los Angeles were by no means an equal threat to the terrorism they fought on a daily basis, it wasn't the ideal hide out for an unarmed and injured cop.

"Uh, well, it's not that bad…yet." Eric muttered as though it would somehow make it less real.

"What Eric means is that the signal could give out at any time." Nell inserted, apparently fed up with Eric's cowardly attempts. "Normally that wouldn't be so bad but based on the speed that Doug's moving at now, we're guessing he's on foot."

"And there's no other way you can track him?" Callen asked, giving the gas a push that had the Ford shooting through a crooked stop sign.

"Sorry guys. It looks like you'll be doing this the old-fashioned way." Nell summed up.

"Where is he now?" Kensi demanded. Almost immediately a flurry of clicking noises filled the otherwise silent vehicle.

"Our last ping had him within three thousand feet from where you are now. That's when his rate decreased." Eric said, once again sounding apologetic. Callen continued driving at a speed not likely approved for a residential area until they spotted Doug's abandoned car, parked neatly outside a small but comparatively nice house.

The man in question was nowhere in sight and Sam spat something out in a language Kensi didn't understand but the meaning was easy to guess by the vehemence in his voice.

"Eric, tell me you got something." Callen demanded.

"I do, a signal about four blocks away."

* * *

Jerry advanced slowly, a predatory grin twisting into place. Marty felt a distant kind of terror that was quickly losing the ongoing tug of war with overwhelming fatigue. He opened his mouth but rather than the words he was hoping for, a faint squeak escaped.

"Je-Jerry, you don't want to do this." He eventually forced through chattering teeth.

"Oh, that's where you're so wrong, Max." Jerry spit back in a humorless tone. He continued his almost painfully slow steps, the even, marked movements transformed into jerky leaps by flashes of lightning and the dark spots dancing across Marty's vision. His eyes slid shut for a second and when he managed to pry them open again Jerry was standing right over him. So close that if Marty had felt the insane urge he could have reached out and grabbed hold of the man's leg.

Frantically he dug his heels into the soggy ground, his feet slipping against the mud futilely. Jerry sank into a surprisingly graceful crouch beside him and casually pressed his knee into Marty's sternum. Casually he raised the knife above his head as though preparing to plunge it into some undoubtedly vital part of Marty's body. The quick, shallow slash across his right bicep was a complete surprise and left Marty breathless despite the comparatively minimal pain. He glanced at the thin line of red seeping down his arm which was instantly washed away by the driving rain and wondered at how it could possibly feel so hot against his skin. Something in the back of his mind reminded him that it was a bad sign but he had no time to analyze the situation as Jerry made his next move.

Grabbing a handful of his mud soaked hair, Jerry wrenched Marty's head back so it was tilted towards the sky allowing raindrops to blur his already fuzzy view of crumbling brick walls. He looked to the side but was only able to see one of the other man's knees through the corner of his eye.

Perhaps there was something wrong with the detective's mind, (Kensi chuckled darkly) but he wished he could see the knife's intended target rather than waiting to feel the sudden bite of honed metal sliding into his skin. He wanted to know, to at least have that infinitesimal modicum of control.

A second rivulet ran down his chest and gathered in the curve of his neck. Somehow he felt cheated after all the effort he'd put into escaping; to be lying in the mud and carved up by a schmuck like Jerry seemed so unfair.

The other man leaned close, blocking out the dim light as he brought his lips near Marty's ear.

"Payback is a–" The deafening crack surprised Marty nearly as much as it did Jerry based on the stunned expression on the other man's face as he straightened. If it weren't for the very real feel of the gun dropping from his limp fingers, he would have sworn that someone else shot Jerry. With a horrifyingly comic look as he clutched at his reddening shirt, Jerry slowly slid into a heap, his upper torso falling partially against Marty's legs.

The scent of fresh blood filled his nostrils and he forced himself not to gag as he felt it soaking into his damp clothing. Using his very last bit of energy Marty shifted and pushed until Jerry lay beside him in a sick parody of a sleeping lover. He knew that he shouldn't just be lying there with in the mud and Jerry's blood (he shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the icy rain), but his last act of self-preservation seemed to have expended any energy that remained.

All his training and experience was telling him to check that Jerry was indeed dead, although he thought it was unlikely that he had survived a GSW to the chest. Instead he let his head sink back fully into the mud and listened to Kensi's voice as she amused him with embarrassing stories about Sam and Callen.

* * *

Following Eric's directions had Callen pulled to the side of the road where they quickly gathered weapons and gear. The street was lined with an odd mix of homes that were old but obviously well-cared for and houses that were practically falling apart at the seams.

Wordlessly the three agents adopted defensive positions, guns held to their sides that would hopefully appear innocent enough to the casual observer. Fortunately there appeared to be few people out particularly as they progressed farther down the street and the buildings grew increasingly derelict.

"Eric, anything?"

"Still within that three thousand feet radius. I can't do any better right now, sorry. I guess you'll just have to start checking each house and hope they stayed nearby." He said.

"That's great, Beale, so how do suggest we go about finding which one they're in? This might not be Bel Air, but I think people are gonna notice if we start banging down their doors." Sam said. He shared an irritated glance with his partner and shook his head.

"Ok, I never said you should damage any property." An irate Eric shot back.

"Wait, guys, isn't that a corvette?" Kensi interrupted nodding in the direction of a house that indeed had a familiar looking car parked in the small patch of grass to the side. The bickering stopped and Callen gestured towards Kensi and Sam and either side of the building while he headed for the front door which was hanging crookedly on its hinges. Kensi took the right side since the corvette was blocking most of the space making the chances that Sam could squeeze through unlikely.

They met at the back, both waiting to lower their guns until they had completely scanned the surrounding area, flashlights aimed at the ground to counter the growing darkness. Sadly there was little to see other than abandoned takeout containers, plastic bags and smudged footprints. Kensi thought she heard Sam muttering as he stared at the mess and she caught him glaring a few times as though he could force it into neatness by sheer will.

Since there was no backdoor they returned to the front just as Callen shouted out 'clear' from within. Kensi entered first, squeezing through the broken door and followed the sound of Callen's voice. She was not at all prepared to see him standing over a crumpled body, stopping suddenly so that Sam stumbled into her. Callen was bent over the body, obscuring all but a pair of legs and out-flung arms.

He shifted back onto his knees, hastily wiping his fingers against the floor with a look of distaste.

"He's dead." Callen informed them grimly as he got to his feet. Beside her Sam let out an almost silent breath as Tom Gelitz' still form was revealed. Kensi felt a sick kind of relief that it was the slightly pudgy criminal and not her partner lying there in a pool of blood.

"You think Deeks did this or…?" Kensi's question trailed off as they surveyed the destruction around them. There was a broken wooden chair lying on its side and as she looked more closely, she noted several drops of blood sprinkled around the area and a steadier trail leading to Tom's body.

"Deeks' pain meds." Sam said, lifting up the empty canister. "It looks like there was a fight and since the car's still here I'd bet Deeks' escaped and Jerry went after him."

"Which doesn't do us any good since we don't know where any of them are and we can't track Doug." Kensi observed. "I mean, how do we even know that Doug is headed the right place? For all we know he has no idea where his Jerry is. They could all be going in completely different directions." Callen didn't look pleased, but nodded all the same.

"Alright, I don't like it, but we'll split up. Eric, Nell, any suggestions of where we should start?"

"Uh, there's a group of abandoned apartment buildings, it looks like there's five in all, one street over which cover about two city blocks to the Northeast if we think Deeks is looking for a place to hide out." He responded after a few seconds. "There are a ton of homes listed as condemned, not to mention a lot of other structures that aren't in use any more.

"I also found an old community center one 5th Street but that doesn't mean–"

"Woah, hang on a second guys." Eric interrupted excitedly. "I got a signal off Doug for like two seconds but it looks like he's in the general area of the apartment buildings. I don't know exactly which one and the signal's gone again. I know it's not much…"

"That's good, Eric, thanks." Called assured the younger man and turned back to Sam and Kensi. "Ok, you two take the apartments, I'll check out the community center."

"I don't like it, G."

"What other choice do we have?" Kensi countered.

* * *

Some time later Marty woke to the sound of screaming. "Oh my god! NO! JERRY!" This time Marty didn't bother to lift his head as splashing footsteps drew towards him. Lethargy had stolen any interest in everything but his desire to sleep.

"Jerry…Jerry, no!" Marty's head lolled to the side as a man dropped to his knees beside Jerry's fallen body. He listened as the voice pled, as he attempted chest compressions and pushed short, gasping breaths into the dead man's lungs. Even without checking Marty could've told him it was a lost cause. His vision blurred and he quickly felt his consciousness receding as the man continued to call Jerry's name.

He forced his eyes open again despite his body's protests and saw the double image of a man crouched near him, sobbing incoherently. Marty licked his peeling lips and tried to speak but only a strained squeak emerged.

"You…you need to…get help." He managed in a faint whisper which finally drew the crying man's attention to him. The man startled as though he had only just noticed the second prone figure. Marty blinked rapidly, his vision clearing just enough to see that he was young and looked slightly familiar. His mouth was open in apparent shock and he spent a few moments glancing between Marty and Jerry's body.

"You killed him." He whispered softly, his voice reflecting that same astonishment etched into his features. "You shot him…why?"

"He tried to kill me first." Marty replied, not entirely sure why he was defending himself. Almost immediately the kid started shaking his head.

"No…no, he wouldn't…no, you killed him." His voice was stronger now, the shock quickly being replaced by anger. Marty saw his gaze flicker to the gun, now lying a few feet away where it had dropped from his lax fingers. "You shot him!" He repeated, the last word hitching hysterically at the end.

"No…I di–agh!" Marty's screams echoed off the wet bricks, masking the sound of yet another rib cracking under Doug's unexpected assault. He'd barely managed to suck in a shallow breath when he felt cool metal pressed beneath his chin. His eyes were closed and he kept them that way even as he heard the sound of a safety being released.


	9. The Choices we Make

**A/N: As promised this chapter comes to three months later than expected, I hope you enjoy it. For various reasons this chapter was extremely difficult to write which is why it took so long, at least that's the story I'm going with. Douglas was very uncooperative so you can blame him.**

 **Disclaimer: If I wrote for the show they'd have roughly one episode per year.**

 ** _Honus47:_ Glad you liked it and thanks, you may get your wish this chapter. I'm doing my best not to let this languish indefinitely. _Me:_ You get your way, there will be at least one more chapter after this. _Coutry Girl:_ Thanks so much, hope this doesn't disappoint. Thanks to _Astrida, Jackie, Marcy Foote, anonkp_ for reviewing as well and everyone who has followed and favorited.**

 **Hope you like it!**

* * *

The Choices we Make

"What're you doing, man? Open your eyes!" Marty's brain twitched in lazy surprise at the unexpected command, not to mention the fact that he was still breathing rather than splattered across the dirty brick walls. "I said, open your eyes." The slightly hoarse was becoming more familiar now, deeper than when Marty heard it on a frequent basis and without any embarrassing breaks interrupting its flow. It came to him along with the mostly forgotten scent of Harper's Deli.

"Yeah…I…don't think that's gonna happen right now, Doug." He muttered. "Feeling a little…under the weather."

"If you're so weak then how did you kill two guys, huh? I saw what you did to Tom, you shoved a freaking board in his stomach." Doug shot back. His hand holding the gun was trembling slightly, whether it was from the cold or something else, Marty didn't know. Or maybe he was the one shaking. It was kind of difficult to tell when parts of your body felt numb.

"Doesn't matter what I tell you, Doug, you won't believe me." The gun shifted against his neck and he felt rather than heard a shaky exhale.

"So you're not even gonna try? I can't believe I ever trusted you, everything you told me was a lie right down to your name and I thought you were my friend, someone who actually cared about me." Marty huffed out a frustrated sigh, wondering if it was worth the effort of arguing.

"I might have lied to you about my name and about being a cop but I never lied to you about the important stuff." Doug gave an incredulous laugh which Marty ignored. "The advice I gave you, the things I did to keep you out of trouble, none of that was fake, Doug. I didn't have to do it, I wasn't even supposed to be hanging out with you, if I'm being honest, but I couldn't stand seeing you turn out like a hundred other kids I knew who were pulled into bad situations. I didn't have an agenda or–" Marty's voice suddenly deserted him mid-sentence, his chest seizing with a harsh string of coughs that left him breathless.

His eyes flew open in panic as he felt himself struggling to draw in air and above him he found Doug's wide-eyed stare. Hesitantly it seemed, the other man grabbed him somewhat roughly and urged him into a more upright position.

"Calm down or you won't be able to breathe at all." He ordered harshly as Marty continued to gasp ineffectually.

"Would...wouldn't that…make things lot easier…for you?" Marty managed between huge gulps of air. With his renewed ability to breathe also came a resurgence in pain.

"What d'you mean?" Doug asked tiredly. All the fight seemed to have drained from him, leaving behind the boy Marty remembered playing streetball with. The younger man tilted his head back, water dripping from the ends of his hair and down the sides of his face.

"You want me dead…this way you wouldn't even have to pull the trigger." Doug's head shot up abruptly, his dark eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"I was never going to shoot you." He said deliberately. "I promised you I wouldn't become a killer."

"Then why…?" Doug jumped to his feet, coming to stand directly over where Marty was slumped.

"Because I wanted you to know what they felt! Come on Max, they were all I had left and you just killed them."

"S'that why you told them. About me. So they could…pay me back?"

"No! You think I'm stupid enough to send them after a cop? And I didn't want you or anyone to get hurt…I was angry when I saw you there with all those other cops and I knew how much they hated you. I knew they'd understand. But I didn't want you dead, I work in a hospital for god sake."

"So getting the crap beat out of me after I was shot was just a boon then?" He baited.

"I told you I didn't want anyone to get hurt!" Doug shouted. One of his hands reached up to latch into his rain soaked hair and he let out a sob that made Marty's stomach pang in sympathy. "If you really knew me at all, you would know I couldn't do that to anybody, even somebody like you."

"So what's it going to be, Doug? You gonna break your promise?" Marty asked conversationally.

"I'm not like them." Doug murmured fervently several moments later, his gaze vaguely pointed in Jerry's direction. Whether he was talking to Marty or himself wasn't clear, but he seemed to gather some measure of comfort from the words and he quietly repeated it a few more times as he paced. After several minutes of aimless pacing and muttering, in which Marty's eyes began to droop again, Doug turned suddenly, marched back over to him and jammed his hand into his jacket pocket.

"I'm not like them."

* * *

"Guys, I think I found some blood on ground. I can't be sure though, the rain's washing everything away. What about you?" Kensi finished speaking into her comm and waited for a reply. In reality she knew that they'd been searching for about ten minutes but in her mind each second was an interminable length of time. There were roughly ten rows of apartment complexes and each one was surrounded in darkness that was barely alleviated by the beam of her flashlight. Every overflowing garbage can was her partner's fallen body, each noise she heard as she rounded a corner was the sound of his distressed cry.

"Nothing yet, but like you said Kens, rain is being a real SOB." Sam answered.

"Nope. I don't think Deeks would have come this way though, there's a lot less cover and if you can imagine, it's a lot more run down. He'd want more people around and to get out of this area as fast as possible." Callen said. His voice was slightly breathless and Kensi could easily imagine him darting between buildings, scanning for any threats or signs of Deeks.

"Yeah, but that's assuming he's thinking reasonably."

"Deeks is smart–" Kensi broke of suddenly as the faint, but familiar sound of gunfire echoed from her left. "Gunfire, coming from the North-West. Single shot." She reported quickly, readying her gun and approaching the direction she mentioned.

"Kens, wait for us." Callen ordered.

"We might not have time." She hissed back through gritted teeth.

"Kensi, you don't know how many gunmen are there." Sam warned her, the sound of his slightly increased breathing telling her he was most likely running. She ran by two buildings, only giving them the briefest scan, knowing they were to close by to be were the shot had originated.

"I can handle it." She murmured, mostly to herself. If it was a question of getting Deeks out alive she was willing to take on an army. She'd rather die fighting than let a few minutes be the difference between her partner living and dying.

"No sign of Deeks, Jerry or Doug near the first three buildings." Kensi said a few minutes later. Her pace was slowed down by frequent stops to check the darkened nooks and crannies and by the stupid necessity to follow at least the bare minimum of NCIS protocol. More than once she darted frantically toward a suspicious shadow only to find that it belonged to a bedraggled bush.

"Eric?" She demanded, swiping a hand futilely at her soaked hair.

" _Nothing. I'm not getting any kind of signal, not even enough to get a general location. I'm sorry, Kensi. I wish there was something else I could do._ " Kensi nearly screamed at him to try harder but something in his softly spoken, regretful tone forced her to take a deep breath and push down her misplaced anger.

"That's ok, Eric, it's not your fault that this place should be condemned."

"Guys, I just talked to a witness who saw someone fitting Jerry's description. He didn't appear to be armed but was running in your general direction Kensi about thirty minutes ago." Sam rattled off in her ear. Thirty minutes. More than enough time for Deeks to be found and killed. Even without a gun Deeks was hardly in any shape to fight back. She'd seen the blood dotting the room where he'd been kept, knew how weak and in pain he'd been while on pain meds. It was amazing he'd made it this long.

Giving up any pretense of being cautious she started broke into an all-out run, aiming her flashlight in uneven sweeps across the ground, vegetation, and walls around her. Every so often she heard an update or warning to be careful from Sam and Callen but she blocked it out, focusing her attention on her surroundings on the off chance she'd hear a cry for help.

Not breaking stride she glanced at her watch to see that twenty minutes had passed since she first heard the shot. Her flashlight swung down to flash at an overflowing dumpster and then back again to glow faintly down the length of the next alley. She groaned internally as it glinted off of something about half-way down, knowing it would likely be an empty can or bottle of some sort. Moving a few steps closer, she stopped short as the two bodies became distinguishable in the shadows.

"Deeks." She whispered and nearly cried with relief when she saw that it was not him. Hastily she checked Jerry's pulse, feeling a sick moment of satisfaction as she noted the bullet whole nearly dead center in his chest.

"Callen, Sam, I've got Deeks. Jerry Gelitz is dead. No sign of Doug." She rattled off.

Dropping to her knees in front of Deeks' slumped form, Kensi aimed her flashlight over his upper body and frantically sought out a pulse with trembling fingers. It took far longer than she would have liked, but eventually she felt a slow beat beneath his chilled, wet skin.

"Deeks." She whispered gratefully. Then more forcefully, "Deeks, come on, you got to open your eyes for me, ok? You're going to be alright but I just need you to help me out and open your eyes." When he remained silent, her focus shifted down his torso. Carefully she pulled up his stained and soaked sweatshirt, letting out a small gasp at the bruised and reddened skin that was visible in the inadequate light. Several of his stitches appeared to be leaking a steady flow of blood. Gently tugging his shirt back down, she gently pressed down on the worst of his wounds.

"Gah! Don't, ah don't, I didn't!" Deeks babbled, his eyes snapping open and landing on her. Kensi practically jumped at his scream, her heart thundering at the pain in his voice.

"Deeks? I'm sorry, I was trying to stop the bleeding." She apologized immediately. His head lolled to the side, hanging at an uncomfortable angle. Kensi steadied it with one hand while she grasped his cheek with the other. "Deeks, can you hear me?"

"Kensi, he got away. I know you wanted me to stop…I couldn't. It wasn't his fault. He didn't do anything…please don't…"

"It's ok, I'm not mad at you. You did a good job." Kensi assured him even though she was clueless as to what he was talking about. "I'm going to get you help now, ok. Just hold on a little longer." She pressed a finger to her comm button, keeping one palm cupped around his cheek.

"Eric, I found Deeks. I need you to call an ambulance. His pulse is thready, he's pretty beaten up and he's not making a lot of sense." Kensi rattled off. After a short amount of tapping during which Kensi mindlessly stroked Deeks' worryingly cold skin, Eric started speaking again.

" _Uh, Kensi, there's already one on the way. An unidentified male called for paramedics in the same location as you six and half minutes ago. Gave them Deeks' description and everything."_

"But Deeks doesn't have his cell. Who–never mind just make sure they get her as fast as they can."

" _Will do. ETA is 20 minutes."_ Deeks shifted restlessly beneath her hand, moaning quietly before his eyes sprang open again. His pupils were huge and glazed as he stared and grasped her hand urgently.

"Kens, I shot him. He had a knife and then I was, I didn't even…I shot him." She didn't know why he was so desperate for her to know that he'd shot Jerry but she nodded anyway, assuring him that he'd done the right thing. After a few minutes his eyes fluttered closed again and Kensi smoothed his hair from his eyes, whispering as soothingly as she could.

Gathering him to her chest so he was no longer propped against the hard bricks, she continued to run her fingers through his mud-coated hair and damp cheeks. Every so often Deeks mumbled something unintelligible and though his eyelids fluttered he did not regain consciousness.

"Kensi. Kensi!" She didn't immediately register the sound of her own name until Callen was right in front of her and shining his light in her face. "Kensi, is Deeks ok?" Callen said with a tone that suggested he'd repeated the question at least once. It took her a few more moments to comprehend what she was being asked while she blinked uncertainly against the bright light.

"I don't know, Callen. He's, um, he's been unconscious for about 10 minutes. He was beaten and it looks like some of his stitches…" Kensi's voice hitched despite her best attempts to keep it even as she reported Deeks' condition. "Paramedics are on the way." She added in a more normal tone.

"I know. Sam stayed behind to show them the way." Callen said. Kensi tried to remember if she'd been the one to tell them then decided it didn't matter either way. Sinking into a crouch Callen gave Deeks a brief once over.

"Kensi, he's going to be ok, we've got him now." He took her arm in a firm yet gentle grasp and attempted to loosen her grip.

"No." She snapped. "I am staying with my partner until I know for sure that he is safe and that no one else is going to shoot him, hit him, or drag him through the rain and mud." Her voice was deadly calm as she finished and Callen looked slightly unnerved. At any other time she would have reveled in his discomfort but for now she locked her jaw and tightened her arms around Deeks' torso.

They stayed in silence for several minutes until Callen made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle and she turned to him with an incredulous look.

"What the hell, Callen?" She asked as he broke into full out laughter. Sobering slightly before he answered, he gestured to where Deeks was cradled carefully in Kensi's arms.

"I was just thinking how pissed Deeks is gonna be when he finds out you hugged him and he was unconscious the entire time."

* * *

 **Thanks to all my readers and for the continued support!**


	10. Home Sweet Home, or Close Enough

A/N: Hey, it's only been three months since my last update! Woohoo! So we're getting close to the end here, I know I keep promising that but my faithful and mostly kind readers have convinced me this story needed a little more padding. They really had to twist my arm.

To start things off, I am not a doctor. I have watched a lot of M*A*S*H but they still wouldn't give me my diploma. So, if anything below seems sketchy, it might be but I did my best make this sensible.

Disclaimer: NCIS:LA has yet to be bequeathed to me.

Reviews: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed, favorited and stuck with me throughout my irregular posting in the past year. It's unbelievably gratifying to know that people continue to read my humble attempts at writing.

Regarding specific comments or questions: _Jackie_ : This isn't a straight up Densi story (it is in the sense of friendship I suppose) since I'm keeping their relationship as canon as possible. However, I think there friendship and Kensi's care for Deeks' well-being has grown quite a bit through the course of this fic.

To _Guest_ who commented on chapter two, I believe, I didn't mean to malign the medical community as a whole or really at all. I'm finding that a wee, inconsequential detail has caused more problems than it is worth. That being said, I do have anecdotal evidence of the very thing I described happening. Years ago, when I was in the hospital and again just a few months ago when my father had an extended stay at a hospital. Near the end of his stay, when his condition wasn't so serious, there were days where he never saw his attending doctor despite being assured he would. I understand completely that this happens when emergencies pop up, but it does happen despite rules and protocol. And yes, as you have noted I am a slow updater.

 _French Fan_ : Thanks for such a nice comment!

* * *

Home Sweet Home, or Close Enough

Thirty minutes of sitting in the rain, one tense ambulance ride and three hours of medical attention later Kensi was once again waiting in an all too familiar place. She'd probably spent more time in the hospital in the last ten days than she had in the past fifteen years. If she never had to see her partner unconscious and bloody with a team of doctors working over him, she could die a happy woman. Watching the EMTs as they assessed Deeks' condition in the ambulance and being incapable of assisting in any way was agonizing.

Once they'd arrived at the hospital Deeks was unloaded and whisked off, leaving her to wait for news. She didn't even have Sam or Callen's companionship to pass the time as they had stayed behind to process the crime scene.

"Anytime, now Deeks." She murmured to the unconscious man in front of her. "I know you need your beauty sleep, but this is getting ridiculous." Ever since he'd been settled into his room she'd been dropping idle comments every few minutes, each dig growing more sarcastic, and in her opinion, funny, as though the sheer ridiculousness would rouse him.

Despite her best attempts his head remained tilted towards the other side of the room, as motionless as when she'd walked in. Several blackish bruises covered much of his jaw and cheekbones and a collection of butterfly bandages dotted the bridge of his nose and the line of his scalp. A thorough investigation had revealed even more impressive bruising over the bits of his torso that weren't covered with gauze along with a sizable bump beneath his wildly curling hair.

Someone had clearly washed his hair since it was no longer matted with mud, sweat and blood but rather framed his face like an untamed halo. The urge to run her fingers through the soft-looking strands was nearly irresistible, if only for the reassuring comfort it would provide.

"Agent Blye?" Kensi started at the sound of her name, shifting closer to Deeks and clamping a hand around his wrist at the unexpected intrusion. Deeks' surgeon who she'd met briefly while Deeks was being transferred to his room, Doctor Matthew Hoang, poked his head a little further around door, wiggling a couple fingers in a reassuring gesture. He wore a gentle smile that seemed out of sorts with his six and a half foot frame and even more so, given the late hour. "Didn't mean to startle you, just thought I'd drop by and get you up to speed on Agent Deeks' condition since I didn't have a chance earlier."

"Detective." Kensi corrected automatically. "But he goes by just Deeks or Marty."

"Ok, then." He said, seemingly unperturbed by Kensi's twitchiness. "Well, as I mentioned before Marty's in pretty good condition for what I gather he's been through in the last few days. My biggest concern is the reopened wounds, what with the rough treatment, the lack of proper medication and exposure some of the sutures are slightly inflamed. Quite frankly I'm surprised he doesn't have a full-blown infection at this point. We want to make sure that doesn't happen so we've got him on two strong antibiotics to combat whatever gunk might be floating around in there. Agent, you still with me?" Kensi nodded automatically, catching Dr. Hoang's eye who peered down at her with a kindly expression.

"I know it's a lot to take in." He offered knowingly.

"No, I'm fine." She insisted.

"Ok, aside from that he's pretty banged up but most of it is minor, all things considered. He has a large bump on the back of his head, but we didn't see any signs of bleeding or brain damage on CT scan. We'll still monitor it over the next couple days. Most of the bruising and abrasions are superficial." Kensi nodded again when he paused, feeling simultaneously overwhelmed by the laundry list of injuries and relieved that it was apparently not that serious.

"There also weren't any signs of internal bleeding in his abdomen and only mild bruising, again we'll monitor that but I'm not overly worried. He did re-break one of his previously injured ribs."

"Are you sure it was only one?" Kensi interjected before Dr. Hoang could add in another non-fatal but undoubtedly painful injury. She'd had a broken rib before and it had hurt like hell, but she didn't have trouble breathing like Deeks. "I mean, when I found him he could barely sit or breathe, I think he passed out from the pain." Hoang chuckled darkly.

"I'm sure he did. Aside from the cracked ones, he's got moderate bruising on six to go along with everything else. I'm surprised he was cognizant."

"But you're not worried?" Kensi asked, skepticism coloring her tone.

"I wouldn't say not worried so much as cautiously optimistic. Like I said, my biggest concern is the possibility of infection, my second concern is dehydration. We're pushing fluids so we should be covered on that base while he's in our care. Do you have any other questions?" Hoang asked and Kensi forced down the knot of apprehension that threatened to choke her.

"Um, how long will he be here? Is there anything I can do that would help speed up that process?" She knew Deeks would want to be released as soon as possible, especially given his recent familiarity with hospitals. Dr. Hoang scratched at the side of his head absentmindedly, dislodging a thick tuft of hair and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet a few times as he considered her question.

"Well, the length of Marty's stay all depends on how quickly he heals. If there aren't any complications then maybe a couple days, but say that inflammation flares up into something more, then we could be looking at a significantly longer stay. As for what you can do, stop him from doing anything stupid and most importantly, make sure nobody hurts him again. At least until his stitches are out."

"Oh, he better hope nothing else happens to him." Kensi muttered darkly to herself. Dr. Hoang raised a thick eyebrow and Kensi pasted on a tight smile, hopefully making her words sound less threatening and more protective. "I just meant, if anyone tries to hurt him, they'll regret it."

"Right…anyway, that's pretty much it for now. Once Detective Deeks wakes up, we can go more in depth about the do's and don'ts."

"So you're sure he will regain consciousness." Kensi pressed, not happy with the uncertain terms of the doctor's analysis.

"Well technically, I'm not supposed to tell you anything's for sure." He leaned forward, as though departing a great secret, and whispered the next part. "It makes the lawyers twitchy. But, I can say with a fair amount of accuracy that your partner will wake up and he will recover. He just needs time to recuperate; his body's been through a heck of a lot and it needs a little down time. Whether that time is four hours or a day…" He gave a shrug. "That I can't be so sure about."

* * *

In the end, Deeks didn't take the full 24 hours Kensi had allotted him, but it was still some of the most stressful seven hour and fifty-three minutes she had ever spent. She continued to talk throughout the night and into the early morning, her babbling becoming less coherent as exhaustion raged and making her sound much like her still silent partner.

"I called Callen when I went for coffee, he said Sam's pretty impressed by your escape. Not that he'll ever tell you. Of course the LAPD will want to speak with you, but I think it'll be an open and shut case." She cleared her throat, which was growing raspy with the constant talking, and took a sip of frigid coffee. Unfortunately the lowered temperature didn't improve its taste.

"Oh god, this is so much worse than my nightmare." Deeks groaned unexpectedly beside her. He sounded like he'd been gargling nails for the last fifty years, but it still had Kensi leaning forward in her seat, a concerned expression crossing her features even as she sighed with relief.

"Hey, you're awake. Do you need anything? I should probably get your doctor." She rattled off, already taking a step towards the door. Deeks hand clamping loosely around her wrist brought her to a halt.

"Wait, Kensi, just wait a second. My head is killing me, it feels like someone used my chest as a punching bag and I'm pretty sure Monty was eaten by an alligator so if you could just give me a minute…" Kensi felt slightly light-headed, nearly giddy with relief as his voice grew stronger the longer he talked.

"Well, I can ask your doctor about pain–wait, what do you mean an alligator ate Monty?" Deeks shifted restlessly, attempting to scooch a little higher on the bed. He waved his hand lazily in her direction.

"Never mind, I remember now. You shot them with your bow and arrow." If she hadn't been busy worrying about him, Kensi might have found his slightly confused, lost puppy dog look adorable. As it was she couldn't decide if she should page a nurse or just let him be.

"Ok, maybe you've had enough pain meds." Kensi commented, not entirely sure if he was messing with her.

"Can I have some water?"

"Of course." She said immediately, turning in the slightly cramped quarters to grab the yellow plastic pitcher (they were always such dreary, sickly colors) and flimsy Styrofoam cup with a straw in it. "I don't think you're supposed to have ice right now, so this might be kind of warm." Deeks gave her an incredulous look, as though he could care less if his water was cold or not, and took the cup with a slightly shaking hand.

He pressed the rim to his cracked lips, ignoring the straw and pulled in a long, slow sip before releasing a grateful sigh. After two more careful mouthfuls he handed the cup back to Kensi, his arm dropping heavily to the blanket covering his lap. Moving gingerly, he shifted uncomfortably as he attempted to push himself up again and inadvertently pulled on his IV.

Kensi turned in the cramped space between the hospital bed and table to replace Deeks' water cup. When she had turned back around his eyes had slid shut, his head tilted forward so his chin nearly touched his chest. With a sign she slipped palms around his neck, ignoring the soft edges of his hair as she cupped his head.

"Ok, I'll let you nap now but next time we talk I'm expecting my partner to be firing on all cylinders." She whispered as she adjusted Deeks' head until it was nestled in the thin hospital pillow.

* * *

Kensi woke with a start in the dimly lit room with no memory of falling asleep or idea of what time it was. She craned her head, searching for the clock behind her chair when she realized what had woken her. Soft, strained noises where coming from her partner. She hesitated for only a second and then she had crossed the two steps between the chair and bed where Deeks lay, the noises becoming increasingly distressed.

"Deeks." She murmured as she peered down at him. His left hand swung up suddenly as though to block a punch and his face twisted with what she imagined was pain and perhaps fear. "Deeks." Kensi repeated slightly louder. The need to grab hold of him and shake him into consciousness was strong, but she ignored the urge and settled for firmly grasping his wrist. The moment she did his eyes popped open, a horrible wheezing noise escaping when he tried to suck in a breath.

"Hey, you're ok." She assured him, but rather than calming down he jerked his hand away and shifted as far back as he could against the wall. Kensi clasped her hands together, waiting for the wary look to leave his eyes.

"Kensi." He breathed finally, recognition crossing his features. "Sorry…dream." Deeks explained haltingly.

"It's ok, I get it. Was it the dog-eating alligator again?" She joked. Deeks let out a breath on a shaky laugh and ran his unencumbered hand across the top of his head.

"Yeah, no…uh, turns out Tom and Jerry are even less fun in dream form. It's a good thing neither of them had my imagination."

"Well, it looks like they did a pretty good job anyway." Kensi commented to keep her mind off whatever horrific things Deeks' subconscious had dreamt up. For all she knew, this was tame compared to what he'd experienced in his previous work as an undercover cop.

"So what's the damage?"

"Wouldn't you rather wait until Dr. Hoang comes?" Kensi suggested, hoping Deeks would take the hint and let her page somebody with medical experience.

"Not really." Deeks said.

"Ok, then. Re-broken rib, torn sutures, bruises, mild concussion and mild dehydration."

"Ah, so I should be up in a day or two." He surmised dryly. Kensi snorted her opinion.

"Your doctor didn't give an exact timeline but you'll be alright as long as you don't let anymore idiots kidnap you."

"Speaking of idiots, what happened to Tweedledee and Tweedledum?" Deeks asked in a voice that sounded just a little too casual to Kensi.

"We took care of them. Well, to be more specific, you took care of them."

"Ah, so that part of the dream was real. Huh." His expression was unreadable.

"You don't look too happy for someone who escaped a couple of budding sociopaths and then stopped them from hurting anyone else." Kensi commented lightly, watching Deeks' face for signs of what was going on in her normally easygoing partner's mind.

"I never wanted to kill them."

"It was self-defense, Deeks. They beat you for over a day after taking you from your home." Kensi countered with growing outrage.

"Yeah, but I just wonder if I hadn't screwed with them so much would they have done any of this. I made them hate me and guys like Tom and Jerry hold grudges for a long time. Maybe if I'd just left them alone none of this would have happened." He turned his head as he finished, his jaw set. Kensi leaned forward, breaching the invisible boundary Deeks had set and grasping his hand between hers. Deeks slowly turned to face her and she could see an off-color comment building as he took in their linked fingers.

"Deeks, regardless of what you did, they were responsible for their actions. By the sound of it they did a lot of terrible things and they ended up paying for it in the end. I'm not going to let you take the blame for protecting yourself. Ok?" Deeks didn't respond immediately so she gave his hand a firm shake until he met her gaze once more.

"Ok." Deeks agreed quietly, the barest hint of a smile creasing the corners of his mouth.

"Detective Deeks?" Kensi jerked her hand from Deeks' as a nurse she didn't recognize gave a perfunctory knock on the door before walking into the room. She gave both Deeks and a Kensi a nod. "It's good to see you're awake. I'm Rachelle. I'm just going to check your stats and then we'll see about getting you some pain meds, ok?" Deeks nodded wordlessly which seemed fine with Nurse Rachelle who quietly checked his oxygen and switched out IV bags.

"Well, your heart rate seems good, temp's a little high but that's to be expected. Now, what's your pain level?"

"Four and half." Deeks answered at the same time that Kensi said,

"Seven." Deeks turned with an annoyed expression while Rachelle snorted at their antics.

"How about we call it a five?" She suggested. "I'll give you a low dose for now, but if you start to feel more pain, you've got that handy-dandy button on your left side." Deeks nodded again at the familiar routine. "Dr. Hoang will come to check on you later this morning, probably around ten or eleven, ok?"

"I'm sure it'll be a blast." Deeks answered with just a hint of sulkiness. Rachelle smiled anyway as she disposed of her gloves and left the room.

"I thought nurses were your thing, Deeks." Kensi prompted once the door had creaked closed.

"I'll have you know that I enjoy a broad range of women." Deeks shot back, wincing again while he tried to change positions in the small bed.

"So you just don't like redheads?"

"I love redheaded nurses, but the novelty starts to where off a little after the third or so visit. I should have a membership card by now." Along with the intended sharpness of his words, Kensi could hear the growing exhaustion in Deeks' voice. He started to say something but was caught off by a dry, sharp cough that had him clutching at his injured ribs.

"Hey, I should let you get some rest." She suggested, disturbed by his suddenly much paler face. Any color that had returned in the last few hours had vanished. She started to get to her feet, but Deeks waved her back down.

"I'm not gonna be able to sleep for a couple more hours, way too restless. I mean, you probably wanna go home but if you–"

"I'd love to stay. I hear there's a My Strange Addiction marathon on and I've been dying to catch up." Deeks smiled gratefully at Kensi's poorly couched excuse, handing over the bulky TV control.

"Do your worst."

* * *

A/N: Again, not a doctor. Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!


	11. The Truth Shall Set You Free

A/N: Hello, my lovely readers, how's everyone doing? Can't believe it's almost May! As I mentioned on another fic of mine, I've had an interesting few months. Starting in January I was temporarily promoted which means I get to do what I was trained for and get better pay, but I've also been super busy.

I hope you enjoy this next chapter which was nearly as hard to write as the last couple. I know I keep saying there's only a few more chapters to this thing, but I think this time I'm actually telling the truth when I say that we just have the epilogue after this one.

Disclaimer: No, I have no ownership of any part of NCIS:LA, including Eric Christian Olsen. More's the pity.

Reviews: _J_ : I'm so glad you like it! It means everything to know that people are enjoying what I write.

 _pegasus25:_ I have every intention of finishing this fic, it might just take me a little while. Hopefully you'll hang in there with me.

 _FireFlower88:_ Thanks! I think it's mandatory to give Deeks one-liners and I probably enjoy it a little too much sometimes.

 _Guest_ (french fan): Thanks so much!

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed, faved, and followed or read for the support and encouragement. Now let's see what other cruel and unusual things I can do to poor Deeks.

* * *

The Truth Shall Set you Free

Kensi stayed with Deeks through the rest of the night and into the better part of the morning. The next time he woke he was more lucid but in significantly more pain as his meds wore off and he attempted to move around a bit more.

He was less jumpy than he'd been the night before but Kensi still moved cautiously around him, worried she'd cause him more harm if they maintained their usual level of contact. So instead they watched reruns of _The Andy Griffith Show_ while Deeks toyed unenthusiastically with a container of soupy pudding. Personally, Kensi didn't think it looked all that bad. He'd been fairly quiet all morning which was perhaps the most frustrating and concerning aspect of this whole ordeal.

Deeks talked. Always. Even when he was mad or hurt, he talked to excess, talked to distract. So his one word replies and careless, and no doubt painful, shrugs were drawing on her last nerve. She was itching to ask him exactly what happened in that alley before she found him. Everything hinted at Doug having been there, having called 911, but it made no sense when combined with his lack of cooperation and outright lies.

"Deeks-" A firm tap on the door interrupted and Kensi scowled, turning her attention to the familiar hand curling around the edge which was attached to a mustard yellow sleeve.

"Mr. Deeks, Ms. Blye, I hope you are having a good morning, all things considered." Hetty greeted them quietly. Her omniscient eyes missed nothing as they scanned the room before finally settling on Kensi and Deeks.

"Well, only since you arrived." Deeks offered with a hint of his normal snark. Grasping the edges of the bed he started to pull himself up and Kensi immediately stepped forward to assist. Hetty watched them silently before gliding father into the room.

"Thank you for the effort Mr. Deeks, but I'm afraid I am not here to flirt, this time. Ms. Blye, perhaps you would like to return home and freshen up a bit, eat, rest if you can?" Kensi started shaking her head before Hetty had even finished.

"Hetty, I'm fine. One of the nurses brought me an Uncrustable and some coffee. I'm good, really."

"Well, as delicious as that sounds" Hetty paused for a moment to grimace. "it wasn't a suggestion so much as an order. I have things to discuss with Deeks and it's not necessary that you be here." Adding a nod to this, she stepped alongside Kensi's chair, gesturing for her to stand. Kensi's mouth gaped slightly at being so summarily dismissed, although she probably shouldn't have been too surprised. Hetty rarely minced words when she had an agenda.

"Hey, uh, do I get any say in this?" Deeks asked mildly from his semi-upright position.

"No, Mr. Deeks." Hetty replied evenly. "Now Kensi, home. You're of little use to your partner if you're completely exhausted." With a resigned air, Kensi collected the few belongings she'd brought with, which included her muddy jacket.

"Oh, LAPD is coming between 2 and 3 to take Deeks' statement." she said, pausing in her task as the information came flooding back from the night before. Worriedly she glanced at Deeks who frowned at the news but appeared as unsurprised as Hetty.

"Yes, I'm well aware. That should give us more than enough time to finish our discussion. Wouldn't you say, Mr. Deeks?"

"I think I need more morphine." he muttered. Suddenly he looked a little nauseous and Kensi wondered if it was the pain or the idea of a prolonged heart-to-heart with their imposing boss.

"Enough stalling, Kensi. Your partner is in safe hands with me."

* * *

For the next few days Kensi was bogged down with the expected mountain of paperwork resulting from one kidnapped and beaten detective/liaison, two shootings and collaborating with LAPD. Hetty wasn't providing any leeway on that front either and Kensi wasn't sure if it was deliberate or simply because she wanted the whole mess cleared up as fast as possible.

Rationally she knew that Deeks was probably out of danger, bullet wounds and possible infection aside. It was ridiculous to think that he would be targeted a third time in less than two weeks but she couldn't completely tamp down the idea that she should be with her partner, making sure nothing else went wrong. She'd managed to squeeze in a visit each day which momentarily ameliorated her fears, if only just.

Finally after four days in the hospital Deeks was deemed healthy enough to return home again.

"I'll do it." Kensi volunteered at once when Hetty mentioned Deeks' need of a chauffeur. "I mean, I'm his partner so it makes sense that I should drive him around." she rambled, ignoring Callen and Sam's knowing looks.

"Of course, Ms. Blye. No need to argue the point, I believe everyone is completely happy with that arrangement." Hetty said serenely. "Particularly Mr. Deeks." She added under her breath as she walked away.

"Hey Kensi, maybe you can practice your nurse routine when you get Deeks all tucked in. I'm sure he's got a uniform you can borrow and it will do wonders for his morale." Sam suggested while Kensi grabbed her phone, keys and wallet.

"Or maybe he's more of the slutty cop kind of guy." Callen added.

"Sorry Callen, but I don't really think you're his type." She called back, flashing a protesting Callen and laughing Sam a quick grin as she walked towards the doors.

* * *

Deeks was feeling a distinct sense of de ja vu as he unlocked his apartment door, allowing Kensi through first since she was lugging his duffle bag. He shuffled his way into the living room, and glanced longlingly at the couch.

"Hey, somebody cleaned up." he observed. There was a distinct lack of broken glass surrounding the furniture and the bedding that he'd used before being so rudely abducted was now neatly folded on one side of the couch.

"Uh yeah, Hetty had her cleaning service come by a couple days ago." Kensi replied, coming back from his bedroom. He wondered if he should be worried by her increasing familiarity with his apartment.

"Awesome, I should get hurt more often if it means free housecleaning." Deeks drawled while he attempted to force his protesting torso into a sitting position.

"Deeks, that's not funny." Kensi snapped immediately, losing the unsure demeanor she'd had ever since she picked him up.

"Sorry." he said mildly, not sure his body or psyche was up to a pissed of Kensi Blye just yet.

"Are you hungry?" she asked after a long silence. She seemed torn between not letting him out of her sight for a moment and expending some of the restless energy that had her shifting back and forth on her feet every few seconds. Deeks grabbed the arm of the couch for support and managed to shift himself up a few inches unaided.

"Well, that depends," He shifted again and only ended up tweaking his ribs. "on whether or not Hetty's magical cleaning service restocked my cupboards." Kensi wrinkled her nose but he could still see the concern in her eyes as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

"I didn't realize that sweeping up glass required magic." She commented, gesturing at the floor which appeared spotless and loath though he was to say it, up to par with his meticulous standards.

"It's Hetty, everything she does involves magic." Deeks said dismissively.

"Ok, well assuming Hetty's house elves did go shopping, are you hungry?" Kensi asked, accepting his explanation.

"I guess…just not if there's chicken soup."

"Jerk." she muttered on her way to the kitchen. "That soup was perfectly edible." A few minutes later a clanking sound announced her impending return and Deeks wondered what horror awaited him. Surprisingly enough Kensi had prepared a PBJ and a small bowl of applesauce. She'd also brought his next dose of meds and a glass of water. It wasn't exactly a gourmet meal but Deeks appreciated the effort and intent, not to mention the fact that none of the food was expired.

"So…" Kensi started casually, once Deeks had consumed a few bites of his sandwich. "What happened in that alley, before we found you?" He almost chuckled at the predictability of his partner, but instead threw down his half-eaten piece of bread, the niggling guilt that had been plaguing him off and on for the last few days returning full force.

"You've been dying to ask that all week, haven't you?" he asked instead of answering her question. "I'm surprised you were able to keep it in this long."

"Ok listen, I was being considerate. I figured Hetty put you through the wringer so I wanted to wait until you were better." Kensi countered, pulling a chair closer to the couch and taking a seat.

"And feeling a false sense of security." he muttered darkly. A pillow smacked dully against Deeks's face before falling uselessly to his lap.

"Why didn't you tell us Douglas Tourney was there?" Kensi persisted. Deeks breathed in long and deep, ignoring the pang it caused, and blew it out slowly.

"You weren't supposed to know about that." He said. "I mean, I'm not surprised you figured it out but I was hoping that you wouldn't know anything about Doug. Pretty stupid I guess." Kensi frowned at his downtrodden tone, her expression somewhere between concerned and confused.

"But that's the thing, Deeks. We don't really know what happened. By the time I got there, you were alone and Jerry was dead. The only reason we know Doug had been there too was because he made the 911 call."

"Really?" Deeks asked in surprise. "Hetty didn't mention that for some reason."

"Probably didn't want you to worry."

"Sure."

"What did she tell you?"

"She told me Doug was working at the hospital when I was there, somehow let it slip to his uncles –which I already knew by the way– and that I shouldn't concern myself with him anymore."

"What the hell does that mean?" Kensi asked, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Her exact words were, 'The matter has been dealt with accordingly and Mr. Tourney is no longer considered a threat to you. However, rest assured that we will continue to monitor the situation.'" Kensi didn't appear amused by his Hetty impression, which he'd honestly thought was pretty spot on.

"What did she do with him?"

"Wouldn't say. Just that he was apparently unharmed." Kensi shook her head, apparently at a loss for words. Deeks couldn't blame her really. He'd felt similarly dumfounded and slightly concerned when Hetty had briefed him. Even if Doug hated him now, he couldn't help but worry about what Hetty meant by "handled the situation".

"Seriously though, Deeks, what happened?" Kensi asked after a few minutes of quiet contemplation, returning to her original question. Deeks sighed again and turned his head slightly against the back of the couch.

"Right after I shot Jerry, at least I think it was right after, my timeline's a little screwed up, but Doug came along. I don't know how he found us. He freaked out and then he..." Deeks trailed off as he came to the part he really didn't want to go into detail about.

"He what, Deeks?"

"He got a little angry, you might say, when he realized that both of his uncles, and remaining relatives, had been killed in one night."

"Doug is the one who beat you up?" Kensi asked, raising her voice slightly.

"No, he just kicked me a few times."

"He kicked you?!" She repeated, a dangerous look coming into her eyes. Deeks decided it was probably a good thing that Hetty had spirited Doug away somewhere unknown.

"Kensi, he reacted like anybody would in a similar situation." Kensi's brows furrowed again and slumped in her seat as though his lack of anger had completely disheartened her.

"I don't get it. Why does this kid mean so much to you? You've never mentioned him, but clearly you care enough about him to not want him arrested or anywhere near the police." Her voice was filled with frustration and after a brief second of reflection Deeks made his decision.

"I met a boy named Douglas Tourney on my first major undercover op. I'd done short-term things and my training officer liked my work so he told me to plan for something more long-term. I had a little while to come up with an alias but I really had no idea what I was doing.

I went under as a petty criminal with aspirations in one of the less lucrative ghettos. I was supposed to infiltrate this up and coming drug ring that LAPD thought was responsible for a string of murders." He paused to take a sip of water, allowing Kensi the chance to comment but she remained silent.

"I probably wasn't ready for it, but I wanted to prove myself so I jumped at the chance. I started going to the local bars, threw around some rumors about my less than honorable activities and pretty soon a couple of low-level thugs decided to give me a chance. I met Jerry and Tom while I was trying to make a deal with the drug lord's cronies. Tom and Jerry were willing to do the crap that nobody else wanted to so even with Tom screwing everything up, they still had a job. Since I was a lot better at just about everything, they tried to play nice with me, let me crash at their dump which was super creepy."

"And that's where you met Doug." Kensi guessed. Deeks chuckled dryly and scratched at his jaw.

"Yup. I walked into this dirty, broken down apartment with two thieves and there's this scrawny kid watching cartoons at a second-hand table, eating knock-off Cheetos."

"I bet it freaked you out a little."

"Of course it did." Deeks said. "For a second I thought one of them had actually procreated."

"Lovely." Kensi commented with a roll of her eyes and gestured for him to continue.

"The first couple days he was terrified of me, wouldn't stay in the same room when I was there. I don't know what he'd seen, but it had him pretty messed up."

"How old was he?" Kensi asked.

"I don't remember. I think he was a freshman, maybe sophomore. It was hard to tell cause he looked like such a kid and he was weirdly naïve for someone who'd lived that kind of life."

"Well, not everyone can be a Casanova at 14." Deeks ignored the blatant sarcasm in Kensi's voice, shaking his head at the implication.

"No, Doug couldn't even talk to girls. I mean, he barely talked to anyone; it was a week before I got him to respond to me. He was naïve because even with all the awful people his uncles brought home and the horrible things he knew they did, he still hero-worshipped them to some degree."

"Did he want to be like them?"

"No, he wanted to get out there so bad but he didn't have anywhere else to go. His aunt raised him since he was three. Then the summer he came to Tom and Jerry, she got really sick. I think she had cancer for a while, but she kept it from Doug as long as she could. When it got really bad, she knew she couldn't take care of him anymore."

"So she asked her criminally inclined nephews to take him in." Kensi summed up. The derision was evident in her voice and Deeks hurried to defend the aunt, even though he'd never had the pleasure of meeting her.

"He didn't have anyone else and his aunt was terrified of what would happen if he landed in foster care. I'm not saying that some kids don't end up in great homes, but in the kind of places we grew up, we're usually not so lucky."

"It sounds like you spent a lot of time together."

"Once he stopped being afraid of me we did. It was like he thought I was his big brother or something. Anything I told him he acted like it was invaluable and it never seemed to bother him that I was a criminal." Deeks felt a familiar mix of annoyance and fondness as he talked about Doug.

"Well, you weren't really a criminal. You were just pretending to be one." Kensi observed.

"For all he knew I was. "

"So what kind of tips did the great Marty Deeks give his young, impressionable friend?"

"I told him to stay out of trouble as much as he could, stressed the importance of finishing high school. At that point he wanted to drop out but I told him he could get into college, maybe get away from that kind of life completely if he kept his grades up and stayed out of trouble. And he listened." Deeks shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious as Kensi started at him a little too intently.

"That's actually really…sweet." Deeks couldn't help but shake his head in contradiction as Doug's accusations rang ran through his mind, disjointed as they were. He'd always wondered at the complete trust the teenager had in him and now he felt even more unworthy.

"It was stupid. I was undercover as a criminal wannabe, not a counselor for struggling teens. Do you know how much trouble I could have gotten both of us in? And I'm not just talking about what would have happened if LAPD found out I was spending my afternoons helping a kid with his algebra homework instead of making connections. If the drug lord I was trying to make an in with, saw me playing nice with someone like that, it could have ruined everything. Coulda got Doug killed too." He sighed and shoved a handful of hair off his forehead.

"I don't know, maybe that's the real reason I was pulled. They could tell I was losing it and got me out before I could screw it up any more."

"So the op didn't work out?"

"Nah, I got some evidence which helped take down a few guys, but the drug lord moved on to a more lucrative part of town." There was a few minutes silence as Deeks allowed himself to wallow in a bit of self-loathing. He glanced at Kensi, her expression pulling him out of his own thoughts for a moment. It appeared she was either thinking very deeply or attempting to hold in a fart.

"You ok over there?"

"I'm just thinking." She said, face still contorted.

"Dare I make a joke?" Deeks muttered to himself, but Kensi obviously heard and leaned over far enough to smack the back of his hand.

"Shut up. No, I was thinking about Doug. He obviously put a lot of store in what you told him, I mean look at him now."

"I knew him for all of three months and I didn't even remember him at first."

"It's been years since then, right? I bet there's a lot of other Dougs out there which might make it kind of hard to remember everyone." Kensi observed in a nonchalant voice. "Besides, it doesn't matter if you forgot, because he didn't. You made a lasting impression on him."

"I couldn't just ignore them." Deeks said tightly. "And it still doesn't make it ok. I still lied to an impressionable kid who now is probably questioning everything he's been told and done in the last six years."

"I find it…admirable, even if it might be 'stupid' as you put it. There are too many people who don't bother because it's not their problem or they have more important things to do." If Deeks was blushing a little and looking slightly damp-eyed, Kensi didn't say anything. She cleared her throat and it took Deeks a moment to realize she was looking rather self-conscious herself.

"Well, you should finish your lunch and then go to bed. I left your meds in the bathroom." She said, rising to her feet and surprising Deeks slightly with the sudden change in topic.

"Wait, where are you going, it's only 3:30? I thought you were supposed to protect me from further attacks by ruffians." Deeks injected a slight whine into his voice, hoping it would make him seem less desperate for her to stay.

"Some of us have work to do, we can't lay in bed all day and watch _Gunsmoke_ reruns."

"Ok, that was one time, the _Little House_ marathon was over, and you're not on active duty, how could you possibly have any paperwork left?" He said hurriedly as he watched her gather her bag and phone. If it had been possible, he would have gone after her, but just sitting up made his entire stomach burn.

"It's Hetty, when isn't there paperwork? If you send me the address, I can pick up Monty and bring him home tomorrow. And make sure you set your alarm system after I leave, because I'm pretty sure Sam will kill you if anything else happens."

"I feel so loved." Deeks mumbled to himself as Kensi opened the door and walked out, chuckling creepily the whole way. His guilt hadn't dissipated by any means, but he felt slightly better having talked things through with Kensi.

With a sigh, he slipped a pillow behind his aching back and thought of the first Doug had taken him to his favorite diner which had some of the worst eggs Deeks ever had the pleasure of tasting. Deeks drifted off to sleep, smiling despite himself.

* * *

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this and that there was enough comfort present to make up for all the hurt in the rest of this fic.


	12. Ease Thy Conscience

A/N: I can't believe this is done, finally. I hope it was worth the wait! I'd like to thank everyone who has read this story, especially those who have stuck with me despite my infrequent posts. I appreciate every review and kind comment, favorite and follow. It's a bit of relief to finally be ending my first multi-chapter story.

To Guest who commented on chapter 11: First of all, that naughty Deeks. He'll have to have another lecture from Sam. Secondly, if I said that Doug was a med student, that's an error. My intention was that Doug attended a nursing program, although I might not have stated it explicitly. So if I did mention med school somewhere, let me know and I'll fix it.

To Guest commenting on chapter 6: Deeks wasn't really in a position or state of mind to take a second shot if he missed or Jerry wasn't incapacitated.

French Fan: Thanks for always being so kind and encouraging! Unfortunately I'll be back in my old position when the school year starts

Again thanks to everyone else who commented and encouraged me throughout writing this fic and hope you enjoy this final chapter.

* * *

Ease Thy Conscience

Kensi peered over her left shoulder one last time before tapping out a name on the OPS computer keyboard. It was a little after seven and almost everyone had departed for the day, leaving her with the best opportunity she'd have to complete her task for who knows how long. The first page of information appeared on the screen and Kensi leaned in to read the minute letters.

"Whatcha doing?" Kensi jumped, turning to her right to see Nell about two feet behind her chair. Her mind went completely blank as she attempted to pull together some excuse that would explain why she was using Nell's computer.

"Uh, Hetty asked me to do a search earlier and I couldn't access the information on my laptop," she offered lamely.

"Really?" Nell said looking mildly amused. "Well, maybe I can help you. Let's see who we've got here."

"No." Kensi yelped, reaching to delete the search but not fast enough for the analyst who sent the documents to the big screen. "Crap."

"Ok, why are you looking into Douglas Tourney again? I thought Hetty said he'd been cleared, no charges pending," Nell said. She fixed Kensi with a raised brow in a way that was both irritating and somewhat intimidating. Kensi cleared her throat uncomfortably, rubbing her palms against her jean-clad thighs. It was no big deal; she was a highly trained federal agent while Nell was merely a glorified techie…who could erase her entire life in a second if the urge hit.

"Uh, she did. I just wanted to double check something," she hedged. Nell snorted in disbelief.

"Oh, come on Kensi! I figured something was up when I found you lurking in the hallway two hours ago. I thought you'd be a lot stealthier about sneaking in here," Nell mused. Kensi flushed and cleared her throat.

"I'm kind of under a time constraint," she muttered in explanation. Out of the corner of her eye she swore she saw Nell smirking but didn't think her pride could handle the confirmation. "So are you going to help me or not?" Nell smile condescendingly as though Kensi had just asked the most ridiculous question.

"Of course," she said immediately. Then added upon further reflection. "So long as it isn't something really illegal, you know like breaking into classified documents or killing somebody."

"All I want is Douglas Tourney's number and current address, no one is getting killed and I'm not doing anything illegal," Kensi protested incredulously. "Technically. Just, let me write this down and I'll be out of your hair, ok?"

"Suuure." Nell drawled, making Kensi think that she'd just made a deal with the devil.

"Why did Hetty restrict access to his file anyway?" Kensi asked as she sent the document to a nearby printer. "It's not like he has sensitive information or something." Retrieving the freshly minted documents, Nell stapled the papers with a flourish, tucked them into a folder and handed it to Kensi.

"I don't know. She wouldn't tell me much, just gave me instructions to restrict his file. But I kind of think she didn't want too many people having access to him."

"That's ridiculous." Kensi scoffed. She saw Nell's reflection in the window shrug.

"Yeah, it's not like anybody would want to track him down, right?" She said, just a touch too innocently for Kensi who turned and regarded her with a suspicious glance.

"Just forget that this ever happened, ok?"

"Of course. And if I ever need a favor…?" Nell let her voice trail off, her lips pursed as she met Kensi's eyes.

"Fine, I owe you one. But the same rules that you mentioned apply and it also can't be anything overly embarrassing or something that would get us in trouble with Hetty." Kensi stipulated after a moment's contemplation.

"Says the woman misusing company equipment." Nell muttered under her breath. Holding back a petty retort, lest they descend into the kind of bickering expected of small children, Kensi the results of her search. When she was finished Nell nudged her out of the chair and unceremoniously sent her from the room with a wave of her small hand.

* * *

The next day Deeks was putzing around his living room, attempting to keep things relatively tidy while maintaining a hunched position that wouldn't cause undue harm to his tender midsection. The result was that he'd managed to feed Monty and drop a half-full glass of orange juice (which Monty had the honor of cleaning up) before it was 9am. He'd considered just crawling back in bed, but despite a residual feeling of overall exhaustion, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.

The doorbell rang just as Deeks was debating a quick vacuum session, making both dog and owner jerk towards the door. Muttering under his breath, he stepped over Monty's lounging form. He was pretty certain he'd find Kensi darkening his doorstep once again given the fact that she'd texted him twenty minutes before asking if he was home. He'd been half tempted to reply that he'd gone out to do a little surfing.

He opened the door with a quick tug that induced another wince and met Kensi's pleasant smile with a raised brow.

"Still not dead," he started, his voice trailing off into a creak as he caught sight of the figure lurking a couple feet behind her. Douglas Tourney's mouth opened slightly, his eyes widening as daylight illuminated a wealth of bruises and cuts that hadn't been visible the last time they'd seen each other. Deeks scrubbed a hand through his hair and grabbed Kensi's arm, for once not worrying about acts of retaliation as he tugged her halfway through the doorway.

"Kensi, what is he doing here?" he demanded. The last couple days had afforded him a lot of time for reflection, allowing him to conclude that Doug was no longer his responsibility and; therefore, he had no reason to feel guilty. That all flew right out the window upon seeing the younger man.

"He wanted to talk with you," Kensi said innocently, lifting her arms as though she'd had no choice but to comply with Doug's supposed wishes.

"Really?" he said shortly. His expression remained unamused as his gaze flicked back to Doug who was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and pretending not to listen in on their conversation.

"Ok, I contacted him," she conceded easily and without a speck of remorse. "But," Kensi raised a finger to forestall Deeks' protest. "I didn't drag him here." Right, she'd probably just threatened to castration if he didn't come quietly.

"Why would you do this?" he asked, sheer disbelief masking the anger that was threatening to break through. Deeks supposed he should have expected that Kensi wouldn't let the matter go without a fight. For all she loved her own privacy and anonymity, it seemed she couldn't bear to keep silent when she felt he was making a mistake.

"I brought him here because you're still feeling guilty and taking responsibility for things that aren't your fault," Kensi said in a low tone that Deeks was fairly certain still made its way back to Doug. "Now are you going to let us in, cause we're a little conspicuous out here." Blowing out a short breath, Deeks shoved the door all the way open and lifted an arm in a sweeping gesture of false welcome.

"Why not, it's not like this plan could get any worse," he muttered, thinking that it had the potential to grow exponentially worse if the last week was anything to go by. Doug eyed him nervously for a moment before taking one large step towards the door and edging carefully by Deeks as though he might strike out at any moment. Kensi smiled cheerfully, if a little forced, and followed after Doug. They stood in an uneven triangle of sorts in the middle of his living room, Kensi between the two men while Doug kept glancing in both their directions, a hint of distrust still lurking in his expression. At this point Deeks couldn't really say he blamed him; abduction tended frighten even the stoutest of people.

"So…why don't I fix something to eat while you two talk?" Kensi said when the tension had reached Vesuvius proportions. Deeks raised a brow at Kensi's continued and convenient willingness to occupy his kitchen. She merely smiled again, an oddly sweet, and obviously fake, pursing of her lips before executing a smooth pivot and hastily walking away.

"She doesn't have to do that," Doug muttered once Kensi had left the room. He was staring at his feet, reminding Deeks of the teenager he once knew rather than a full-grown adult.

"Don't worry, I doubt she's actually cooking anything in there…and if she is then God help us all."

"I see you still have a rotten sense of humor," he said bitterly, finally lifting his gaze to focus on Deeks' half-healed split lip. For the next minute or so he continued to eye each and every injury with a disconcerting amount of intensity, making Deeks wish they could go back to uncomfortable silence. Finally when he had reached the bruises that peeked out from beneath the edge of Deeks' t-shirt, he nodded to himself, apparently having come to some decision. Deeks just hoped it wasn't painful.

"Does it hurt a lot?" he asked, staring at the wounds that were obviously more recent.

"Yeah, it does. Not as much as at first but you probably know that bullet wounds and broken ribs don't heal overnight," Deeks responded after a moment, choosing to be honest. He felt that lying or false bravado would only further irritate the younger man.

"Huh," Doug grunted. He looked mildly appeased as though he found some satisfaction from knowing Deeks wasn't getting off scott-free in the pain department. And maybe he did. Maybe that was whole reason behind this little visit, the chance to exact as much retribution as possible. Well, he thought sarcastically, there's was an excellent reason for that, you killed his freaking uncles.

"Good talk," he muttered grumpily. The ever pervasive ache that ran from roughly his neck to his knees had decided to return full force, and it was making him short-tempered and uncharitable. He really just wanted to sack out on the couch until he passed out or Kensi actually brought him food. Finally, having enough of Doug's shifty-eyed glances he wordlessly bypassed the younger man and slowly eased himself down onto a couch cushion, closed his eyes and let his held fall back with a grateful sigh.

"Are you ok?" Doug asked, as though he couldn't help but inquire. Even with his eyes closed, he could almost sense Doug reconsidering his physical state, perhaps wondering if he'd need to provide medical assistance. Deeks nearly chuckled at the thought.

"Yeah, peachy," Opening his eyes just a slit, Deeks noted the conflicting emotions flickering across Doug's face. He looked even more confused than when he'd first walked through the door, a mixture of anger, hurt and grief all competing for dominance.

This damned guilt was going to be the death of him. Hazarding a quick glance towards the kitchen on the off chance that Kensi might magically appear, he internally groaned and cursed his inconvenient conscience.

"Why are you here, Doug? I know you don't want to be here anymore than I do, so what did you come for?" Deeks asked, shoving a spare pillow behind his back and wishing he hadn't skipped his afternoon dose of pain meds.

"You told me you had to kill them," Doug answered eventually. He had turned so he faced the opposite direction of Deeks and started fiddling with the various knickknacks in the room. "Is that true? Did you really have to, or was it just a convenient way to get rid of a couple people you never liked?" This was exactly why he'd never wanted to have this conversation; the accusation in Doug's voice, the blatant look of betrayal said that Deeks was no better than the criminal he'd pretended to be.

"Yes." His simple answer was met with a disgusted noise. Turning back around, Doug fixed him with a piercing stare.

"That's all you have to say?"

"You're not gonna," he paused to readjust his pillow, "believe me no matter what I say." Doug looked briefly bemused as though he'd expected Deeks to provide a well thought out and comprehensive defense of his actions.

"You don't even care, do you?" Doug said incredulously, the disgust returning to his face. His nostrils flared as he spoke and his hands curled into fists. Considering them for a moment, Deeks affected a carefully unconcerned tone.

"Well, that's certainly not the truth, but again, that doesn't really matter too much if you're determined to think the worst of me."

"Quit being such an ass!" Doug shouted. He'd been fiddling with a wooden coaster and Deeks couldn't quite hide his flinch when it went crashing against the right wall.

"Feel better?" he asked placidly. He was almost certain that the younger man wouldn't become violent; his actions in the alley where that of a person who had snapped under great distress. He was also certain that if it did come down to it, Kensi would keep his battered body from undue harm. Unless she'd succumbed to a Twinkie induced coma.

Slowly Doug seemed to gather control of himself. He'd walked several feet away, once again facing away from the couch, his shoulders moving slightly with each breath he took and his fists clenching rhythmically.

"I trusted you and now I'm not sure I can believe anything you told me. You lied," he bit out at last.

"I didn't lie about the important things," Deeks reminded him. Doug absentmindedly fingered the top of a picture frame that held a photo of Deeks and Monty at the beach.

"Oh no…just your name and occupation and why you dropped into my life. I always told my uncles that you were better than them because at least you had integrity. Now it turns out I was wrong about that too!" He jabbed his finger in Deeks' direction as though he could physically make him feel the sting of his words.

"Yes, I lied about those things and maybe it makes me a terrible person, but it shouldn't make you question yourself as a person."

"Everything I knew is gone! I have no family, the person I revered for years is a fake and now I broke the promise I made to you and myself. How do I not let that affect me?" Doug asked brokenly. Deeks heart clenched and he wished to god that he could give him an easy answer that would fix everything. Tensing himself for the anticipated pain, Deeks struggled to his feet and walked over to his side.

"You made a bad decision a few nights ago, but you stopped yourself. That more than anything shows me that you're a good man." Doug looked over his shoulder, his eyes shining slightly with unshed tears. He quickly returned his attention to the photo and tilted so the light glinted off the glass and sucked in a wet-sounding breath.

"If I'm such a good person, then why do I feel relieved that the rest of my family is gone?" he said. Deeks blew out a short breath. Carefully, so as not to alarm Doug, he laid a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed. He wasn't sure anything he could say would be adequate.

"Sometimes, as horrible as it sounds, it's a lot easier when certain members of your family aren't around anymore. For a while you'll be confused and sometimes you'll feel guilty when you realize that you're life just got a whole lot better, but eventually you just might come to the conclusion that Jerry and Tom made certain decisions, terrible decisions that are in no way your fault. And that's when you'll start to feel ok again." Deeks finished speaking, hoping his words would actually get through to the younger man who seemed determined to doubt everything, including himself.

"Sounds like you have some experience with that," Doug said in a thick voice. He hastily wiped his hand beneath his nose and Deeks had to remind himself once again that he wasn't speaking with a teenager but a man who was desperately looking for reassurance.

"Some," Deeks agreed, pleasantly surprised he hadn't made things worse.

"And how did you get through it?"

"Well, first I did a lot of stupid things and blamed myself for stuff that wasn't my fault. Then after a while I finally realized that I was allowed to be happy and like I said, stopped blaming myself for other people's bad decisions," Deeks reiterated.

"Just that simple." Doug murmured. Deeks chuckled humorously, finally drawing Doug's attention from the picture. He looked mildly surprised by his reaction.

"I'm still working on it if I'm being honest, but the important thing to remember is not to let it affect your integrity. You're a good person; you can keep being a good person even if it feels like your world if imploding." Doug stared at him for several moment and then shook his head, his expression sad.

"I want to forgive you. I want to say that none of it matters, but I can't. I can't trust you and I can't forget, not now." His voice broke completely. It astonished Deeks how much the younger man had built him up in his mind.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't stick around," Deeks offered, although he didn't know if it would have actually helped. The illusionary Max Gentry might have been a better role model than the real Marty Deeks.

"Yeah. Um, I think I'm going to go now. Tell Officer Blye that I can make my own way home," Doug said thickly. He held out a hand without looking Deeks in the eye. Once Deeks had extended his own hand, Doug gave it a single, cursory shake and swiftly turned for the door. He turned the knob, but just before he stepped out, he whispered, "Thanks, Marty."

A minute later he sensed Kensi approaching from behind him and then felt a familiar hand squeeze his bicep.

"That didn't exactly go the way I thought it would," she admitted. Deeks raised a questioning eyebrow as he made his way back to the couch, his mind on getting horizontal as fast as possible.

"What were you expecting, hugs and kisses?" He eased back down onto the couch with a sigh and blindly reached for his pain pills. Kensi tsked, grabbing hold of the little canister, removing two tablets and pointedly dropping them in Deeks' palm. "Thank you," He said dutifully.

"Smart ass. I thought you'd come to more of an understanding, but he seems just as confused as when I picked him up, if not more," Kensi answered once she'd replaced the bottle. Making an inordinate amount of noise, she dropped onto the couch beside Deeks, bouncing a few times before she wiggled around to find a more comfortable position. Deeks glared at her.

"By the way, you sounded like a really lame guru, 'in a few years you'll realize that it's not your fault, blah, blah, blah,'" Kensi mocked, chuckling to herself at her very poor impression of him.

"It's good that I have such kind, supporting friends," Deeks said.

"You're lucky to have me," she agreed modestly. "Do you think he'll be ok?" she asked, glancing towards the door. He didn't immediately answer, not because he was confused about her question, but rather because he wanted to make sure his answer was sincere.

"Yeah," he said at last. "Not right away. But I think as long as he doesn't do anything stupid, he'll turn out alright."

"You mean something stupid like driving a stolen car to the Mexican border?" Kensi asked gleefully.

"Hey, that story was told in confidence," he protested adamantly amidst Kensi's snorts. Well, score one for Agent Blye, he thought. Her terrible sense of humor was working. "Besides, he's a lot older and a lot smarter than I was during that particular indiscretion. I think he'll do the right thing."

"What about you? Still feeling guilty?" Kensi prodded, exclaiming when Deeks groaned in exasperation, "I am just looking out for your emotional health!" He shook his head at her audacity, feeling a rush of affection instead of the annoyance he would have expected.

"Well, Dr. Blye, I'll have you know that I was dealing with my…feelings just fine before you arrived." Kensi stuck out her tongue and Deeks reciprocated with a raised finger. "But I will admit it was good to speak with him; at least I had a chance to explain things, make sure that I didn't actually screw him up too much."

"Good," Kensi said, pleased with the results of her meddling. Together they relaxed in the peaceful silence for a few minutes. Perhaps, Deeks thought, he might just be done with this whole mess. He allowed his body to slide down into the impression made by years of use, flinging an arm over his closed eyes.

"So…I have a question for you," Kensi started, dashing his hopes of a quiet, uninterrupted evening.

"You didn't actually make dinner, right?" he asked, popping one eye open to check if she was teasing him again.

"No, I didn't have time," she admitted mournfully. "I actually wanted to ask you about what you were saying the night we found you in the alley. You were too out of it at the hospital and then I almost forgot about it with all the Doug business." Both of Deeks' eyes sprang wide open as he wildly searched his mind for some memory of this supposed conversation.

"Wha–uh, what, what did I say?" He stammered. Kensi's response in the form of a predatory smile would be burned into his mind for a long time to come.

"The question you really should be asking yourself is: what will it take for me not to mention it to Callen and Sam?"

* * *

A/N: It's done, for better or worse. Again, thanks for reading!


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